There we were. A little time had passed, but not so much. Time for the soldiers of the Home Base to say their goodbyes to their loved ones, time for me to enjoy a brief but well-earned nap alongside my feathered ally, time for a quick final meal, and, most significantly, time spent on the march, to meet our enemy in the open field. And, as I said, there we were.
They didn't look quite as intimidating as they had before, at least from a numbers perspective, but the smug expression that the half-mechanical mouse bore, even in the face of such a large force still made my blood run cold. I suspect that I wasn't the only one who felt that way, either. The rest of her forces, with one exception, some forty strong, were all hooded and masked, although their style of mask had varied dramatically. Many had some manner of visor over their eyes, which I suspected offered more than simple protection. Others have metal encased snouts, while still others had varying degrees of both. That was assuming that they even were masks, at least, and the mechanical bits weren't replacements for missing flesh. These coverings did an excellent job of making their own perspectives on the matter unknown. There was also, of course Gwendolynne's 'sister' (although they looked nothing alike, even aside from her strange box-head), Vania, who was simply standing as she had during our first encounter. Face aside, which obviously betrayed no emotion, her arms dangled at her sides and her posture was slumped, showing no hint of body language. The woman could very well have been asleep on her feet, for all we could tell.
As for the platinum angel herself, she stood confident, her mechanical arms folded across her chest, both of which shined beneath the morning sun. She wore a soft, calm smile, and a downright predatory gleam in her one organic eye, as though we were the ones who had foolishly stepped up to face a vastly superior force.
As we had traveled, there was some minor debate when it came to tactics, such as whether we should have waited until nightfall or tried to ambush the enemy, to take them by surprise. Jebediah was quite adamant in his refusal towards this. Even those who had argued for a more strategic approach didn't fight too hard for it, as we had all suspected that it wouldn't work, anyways. Our enemies were very much prepared for us, and there was nowhere around to hide or launch an ambush from. As for our leader, well, he had other plans. As per usual, calling them 'plans' might have been a bit of an exaggeration.
"Is there any way we can resolve this peacefully?" He asked the pair of augmented mouse leaders, "Any way at all? We don't even really know what your king's goal is. Maybe there's some way we can both get what we want?"
Gwendolynne, the half-robotic mouse smiled a little wider. "Sure there is. All of you can lay down your weapons and surrender unconditionally. The same will be demanded of your kingdom. Oh, and that strange fortress behind you, too, of course. Originally we had just set our sights on your own kingdom, but hey, while we're here, there's no reason to not be as efficient as possible." she scanned her gaze across our sizable army, smiling to the many batters and pitchers who all glared at her, angrily. "All soldiers, citizens, resources and leadership will, naturally, be relinquished to the great shadow king Mollenoch."
"Hmmm... well, I suppose that's one way this could go, but to be honest, I'm not the biggest fan." Jeb said, furrowing his brow, "I don't suppose there's any wiggle room? Some way that you and those friends of yours could meet us half way?"
"Oh, of course there is!" The enemy mouse chirped in her slightly digitized voice. "I would be a poor negotiator if I didn't give you multiple options to choose from! Here's my other offer, one I feel that you should accept. It would certainly be more convenient for me, anyhow." she grinned, staring right through the less than intimidating looking farmer. "Each and every one of you can die where you stand."
"I can't say I really approve of that. Are you really sure you can't do any better? I hate to be a bully and use brute force to get my way, but you and those masked friends of yours are pretty severely outnumbered."
That was undeniable. I daresay we even made for a rather imposing group. Samson and Meryll stood to either side of the farmer, who himself might not have been the most menacing of foes, but did carry a strange, casual confidence which I could see making even the most battle hardened of enemies anxious. Not far behind, and well above the rest of the crowd sat the spear-woman, Tanzra, sitting atop a dark lord which, while terribly small by standards of the species, still dwarfed even the largest of the foes. Annabelle knelt nearby, normally the sort of be wandering rather obliviously, but she instead remained perfectly still, the head of her instrument craned against her neck, ready to do her duty. From there were the two dozen cultists, none heavily armed or armored, and undeniably wearing anxious expressions, but their training hasn't been for nothing. Each and every one of them was ready to fight. Then, one can't forget the flock, each member staring balefully at the mechanical witch, who they saw as a sort of embodiment of blasphemy. They had been practicing as well, namely with dropping stones from the sky, and while they didn't exactly have a ton of strength, and couldn't hurl boulders, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to find myself hit by one. Last but not least, there were the local soldiers, who I will call the "players", a title which I have no doubt that they would take as a supreme compliment, seeing as how it was basically the same title that they use for their own Gods. I was still a little bit iffy on their fighting methods, but I figured that they knew what they were doing, and made for an intimidating fighting force, making up the vast bulk of our army.
Technically there was also Dave and Claire, as well. I had no idea where the newcomer was, as she seemed to have the good sense to stay out of the way. The same couldn't be said for our silent companion, however, who refused to ever wander too far from any of the core members.
Our force was large enough to wrap around theirs from three sides, the players mostly taking up the left and the right, and it wasn't simply a single line, either, rather a densely packed crowd, virtually all of which were out for blood.
Beep. The artificial sound came from the box-headed woman, which earned a laugh from her comrade.
"Heh, you're right. Even a million times zero is still zero." Gwendolynne, the platinum angel smiled.
"Is that true? That doesn't sound right..." Jebediah said softly to Meryll, who simply shrugged her shoulders in response.
"If we were a gaggle of common foot soldiers, admittedly, we might be in trouble." The clockwork mouse continued, "Possibly. But these?" she waved a metal paw behind her, motioning to her forces. "These are my elite troops, the finest our empire has to offer, and as for me and my comrade here? We are our Majesty's most trusted generals, and are unequalled when it comes to sheer power and fighting ability."
"Heh." Meryll said, smiling, "So what I'm hearing is that we basically hit the jackpot. When we defeat you, that king of yours will lose a sizable portion of his fighting strength."
"You're not entirely wrong. We have made a point of being valuable assets to our lord, but make no mistake: Even if we were to somehow fall, as impossible as that would be, it would matter not. The shadow king is more than capable of obliterating all of your pitiful lot with a single sweep of his mighty paw."
"To be honest, I don't give a damn about that king of yours." The heavily armored mouse woman growled, narrowing her eyes at Gwendolynne. "You're the one I'm after. You destroyed my fifth favorite sword, and I'll make sure you pay for that!"
The enemy general blinked. Or maybe winked since she just had the one organic eye. It was rather vague. "Fifth favorite? How many swords do you have? Anyways, I get the general premise, but... seriously? That's your motivation?" she shook her head. "You know that I've killed a lot of mice, right? Like, a lot, a lot. If you really want revenge, and don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of revenge in general, that seems like a far better justification. I'm just saying."
"Oh, don't try to confuse me. You got lucky the first time we fought, but things will be different this time. Here's something I was originally planning to save for that master of yours..." The large mouse reached to her belt, seemingly going for one of the nearby sheaths, but instead slipped a paw in underneath it, taking hold of the hidden handle set directly alongside it. With a single swift motion she withdrew a bundle of thin cloth, the wrappings falling away to reveal a gleaming, curved blade. "The legendary cat-claw!"
"Most impressive." Gwendolynne said with a rather bored expression.
Personally, I didn't understand her sarcasm. This is no feeble, plastic blade, and even I, someone who was far from an expert when it came to weaponry, had recognized it without the armored mouse even needing to say its name. The famed sword of Laurentius the Long Tailed (historians debate whether he actually had a long tail, or it was simply a euphemism), a warrior without peer for his time, who believed that by harnessing the strength of the dark lords, he would be able to defeat them. It's unknown where he had obtained the base material, the claw in question, but it was most likely through less than heroic means. After weeks of tireless work by the finest crafters and sorcerers that the kingdom had to offer, he had set out on his quest to eliminate the terrible beasts.
He was never seen again.
A few bards, had argued that he had, in fact, defeated his foes and simply went off in search of greater enemies to face, but they were, of course, just eager to milk the legend for a few more songs, unwilling to accept the far more likely truth: That his efforts had ended in failure. The sword was similarly lost, seemingly forever. Until now. I have no idea how Meryll could have obtained such an artifact. Not easily, I imagine. It was most likely at the bottom of some foul dungeon, guarded by a particularly powerful fiend, as that was the sort of place that legendary items always seemed to end up.
Regardless of the 'how', there was no denying its splendor. It really did look like the claw of a dark lord, obviously wickedly sharp, even at a glance, shimmering with whisps of blue energy, and bound to an elaborately carved handle which I could only assume was made of some manner of bone.
"This ancient blade hungers for blood, and yours will do quite nicely..." Meryll said, before pausing. "...assuming that you even can bleed, and you're not all just wires and oil or something."
"I wouldn't know." Gwendolynne smirked, "It's been so long since anyone has been able to cut me, after all."
"That's fine with me." The large armored woman smiled back, "I'm eager to find out."
Silence followed. Nobody made a move, at least until Meryll turned to Jebediah and said. "So, um... can we attack now?"
"Hmmm? Why are you asking me?" he answered.
"You're the leader here. It's kind of your job."
"Really?" he furrowed. "That sounds like an awful lot of responsibility... I was also really hoping that we could resolve this peacefully somehow, but I would hate to waste any more of this young lady's time." He looked up towards the enemy general. "So, sure, I guess."
Another awkward pause. "So you're officially giving the order to attack, then?" Meryll asked.
"Um... yes?"
Everyone on both sides looked to one another awkwardly for a couple of seconds. Then, all at once, all hell broke loose.
Meryll immediately rushed the clockwork mouse, curved sword raised to the heavens only to find her strike effortlessly blocked by her opponent who, in an instant, extended a long blade from under her wrist. As for everyone else, they began their attack as well, but the lack of proper organization on our end had begun to show almost immediately, and in a way, our large numbers had proved detrimental. The pitchers and hitters began their assault, but old habits died hard. The pitchers threw stones with remarkable speed and accuracy, only to be struck back by the batters, but frequently each side would fail to adjust to the new tactics, with the pitchers directly aiming for the heads of the batters. The reverse applied as well, of course, as Reginald struck a perfect blow against an impressively launched stone from his rival, one that was hurled back with devastating speed, which Archibald had just barely managed to duck out of the way of.
"You're supposed to hit it towards the enemy!" the pitcher called.
"Oh, you're right, of course! So sorry!"
"A completely understandable mistake!" Archibald nodded.
The melee attackers, namely the cultists didn't fare much better. There wasn't any severe disorganization or friendly fire involved, well, not much of it, anyways, but as they tried to engage the enemy, those 'elite troops' successfully lived up to their names. The biggest problem proved to be their sheer toughness. More than a few well aimed strikes were landed, with the masked mice taking severe blows to the body and head. These were not entirely shrugged off, fortunately, but hits which would have incapacitated a normal mouse weren't even enough to knock the green robed augmented soldiers from their feet.
It wasn't simply fortitude which blessed those foes, either. They moved with remarkable swiftness, nearly impossible swiftness, and their own close ranged strikes were enough to send even a guarding opponent flying. Then there was the fact that their primary weapons were ranged ones. We had encountered this before, of course, and in the not-so-distant past, a few members of the flock had fallen to them. The good news was that these weapons were neither rapid firing nor particularly accurate, much smaller and more crude versions of the device Gwendolynne, had used to snipe us from afar. They fired with deafening crashes, the recoil enough to imbalance even those physically powerful mice, firing projectiles which moved far too quickly to properly evade. Reginald, the batter, had tried to strike one back, only, to his surprise, to find his own bat severely damaged, the small bullet passing clean through the solid wood.
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While our numbers and disorganization did made things rather chaotic, fortunately it did the same for our foes. Even if we couldn't land clean, lethal blows, we could overwhelm them, and in this, the flock had proved to be quite helpful, forcing the enemy to worry about the cultists in front of them, the pitchers and batters assailing them from the distance, and a steady rain of stones falling from above. Once again, however, these elite troops had lived up to their names.
The cultists were completely outclassed, and on their own, lacked a numbers advantage. Both Tanzra and Samson were the only ones able to really hold their own, purely due to technique rather than being able to match their foes in sheer power. At first, the rider had seemed talented but unremarkable, at least until she flew into a wild rage, effortlessly taking on several of the masked, hooded soldiers at once when a stray bullet caught Augustus under the chin. It deflected harmlessly, and it was unclear whether the cat had even noticed that it was struck. That didn't matter at all to his overprotective companion, however.
As for Samson, he didn't fight nearly so recklessly. He recognized early on that he was at a disadvantage in regards to power, so relied on quick, surgical strikes, avoiding facing his opponents toe-to-toe, seeking out otherwise occupied foes. His eye regularly wandered over to general Vania, the so-called "Obliteratrix". Unlike the elite soldiers, she was very much not living up to her name. She hadn't moved an inch, hadn't raised her head or lifted a single arm. She simply stood, idle and silent in the middle of this hectic battlefield. Even Dave had at least wandered around it, aimlessly. Every once in a while, one of our forces would make a move to attack her, but they'd always be blocked by one of her troops, and she would fail to or simply refuse to acknowledge their presence in the slightest.
It was difficult to say how well the battle was going. I was no military tactician, and had to spend a lot of the fight close to the ground just to make sure that I wasn't caught by a stray stone or bullet, but if I had to make a judgement, I'd have said not well. We were holding our own, but losing the battle of attrition. Even with our numbers, a single strike from an enemy could take one of our allies out of the fight, and offensively, our attacks were having minimal effect.
At least, that was the case until the music had begun to play. It was a high tempo tune, radically different from the gentle melodies that the bard has previously graced our camps with. I was obviously no fighter myself, but it even made me feel the urge to jump to my feet and take on the world. Sore and weary troops were re-invigorated, the demoralized suddenly felt invincible, and, most significantly, those neigh invincible elite troops? Despite hearing the same music which, by all logic, should have aided them just as much as it did us, well, they began to falter. They didn't cower or run, but their guard was just a little less impervious, their strikes leaden down, and their stoic, statuesque postures showed a distinct air of reduced confidence.
The enemies found themselves pelted with stones which landed with unbelievable power and accuracy, and even the wearied and nearly defeated Starman cultists were able to rally once more and push forward against their unyielding foes.
During all this time, Sellas was racing back and forth across the battlefield, applying healing magics, bandaging wounds, offering potions, and striking whatever foes she could with her mace, which would regularly glow with simple magics, enhancing its stopping power. I think. It was hard to tell, but I imagine that the magical glow must have done something. As for Jebediah, he simply stood as well, naturally not fighting, but significantly less idle than Vania, regularly looking about the battlefield, mostly focused on the duel happening before him. None of the enemy mice had dared to attack him. Perhaps they had feared the reputation of the 'bloody hell reaper', perhaps his causal demeanor had caused him to escape their notice, or perhaps they were just otherwise occupied by the abundance of available targets, but whatever the reason, his observations went largely undisturbed.
As for Meryll, she struck at the enemy general like a wild beast, her majestic, legendary blade leaving blue glowing trails in the air as it danced and struck repeatedly from all directions, faster than the eyes could see. Well, mouse eyes, at least. Gwendolynne found herself in no way handicapped, effortlessly raising and twisting the blade extended from her inner-wrist to catch it every time before it struck.
Neither foe had managed to land a single blow against the other, which in principle sounded as though they were fighting on even terms. While the armored woman struck swiftly and wildly, however, the platinum angel barely seemed to be trying to fight back. At least until the music began. It wasn't a transformation like night and day, but it was just enough. Just a little faster, just a little more power, just a little determination. Just enough to begin to press the semi-mechanical foe a bit, to force her to withdraw a few steps, to make the previously easy efforts at guarding herself require significantly more focus.
Meryll, for her part, pressed this advantage. She still found herself unable to land a proper strike, but she was not the least bit demoralized. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she rained down blows, catching her opponent from above, forcing the metal mouse down on one knee, and curling the blade around with a swift uppercut, fully expecting to put a swift end to the battle. The counter attack, somehow, came even quicker, however.
The large mouse woman stared, dumbfounded, at the bone handle within her hand, a jagged stub of the claw emerging from it, the remainder of it thrown aside by the single severing blow. "But... how? That was a legendary sword!"
Gwendolynne simply smirked "Legends belong in the past. We, on the other hand, are the way of the future." as she rushed in and gave the stunned warrior a hard punch to the ribs. That probably doesn't sound so bad, and I'm no doctor, but looking at the way her layers of armor dented inwards so severely? I dared not imagine what it had done to the flesh underneath. Meryll was launched several lengths back, and fell to one knee. The half mechanical mouse picked up the metal hand, dangling from the wrist by the thick tether, screwing it back into place, having propelled it in a point-blank strike against her foe. By all rights, Meryll should have collapsed completely, as she leaned forward, coughing up a heavy mouthful of blood. She was clearly trying to rise back up to her feet, but sheer determination would only move her body so far. Standing upright, much less continuing the fight, was clearly an impossible task.
The bolstering music had also cut out, all at once, interrupted by a loud explosion. The poor bard, mid playing, did hear the sound of a small object landing near her seated position, but was entirely unprepared for the blast which followed. It wasn't the only one, either, as the enemy troops began to hurl grenades towards the denser crowds of their foes. These weren't too devastating, and fairly easy to avoid, but it did cause the troops to scatter and lose what little momentum and organization that they had. Worse, with the music gone, they were all, once more, beginning to feel their old wounds and growing fatigue. Once again, the tides of the battle had begun to turn.
Jebediah looked to Meryll with a concerned expression. Hers, looking back, was simply embarrassed.
"That was disappointing, but I can't say that it was unexpected." Gwendolynne sighed. "For all your big talk, you were just another weakling."
Meryll spat, making another effort to rise back up, only to fall over entirely, the added exertion taking an unwelcome toll on her severely damaged body.
"I guess it's time to finish this. Jebediah, was it?" the mechanical mouse asked the farmer. He nodded back. "Good! I wasn't sure I had remembered."
She smiled softly, but the expression quickly turned to one of malice and sheer cruelty. She crouched down as a pair of blue flames emitted from the back of each of her metal calves, and launched towards him at a downright impossible speed, tackling around his stomach. The momentum continued, as she not only leapt forward, but actually flew over the troops, taking the confused farmer in tow. Many of our own soldiers had witnessed this and fully intended to give chase, only to find their advances blocked by the remoralized, mechanically enhanced soldiers.
Beep.
I turned around to see a familiar figure standing directly behind me. I had no idea when she moved, and her posture was entirely unchanged, furred arms still drooping lazily to her sides. She, of course, bore no expression, as she had no mouth, much less eyes. Despite all of that, I could still, somehow sense her staring deeply into my very soul.
Jebediah let out a soft, "oof" as he was thrown down onto he grass, the enemy general making a far more graceful landing in front of him, as the plumes of blue flame faded away and a pair of metal panels sealed shut overtop of them. For the moment, however, he was unharmed, and rose to his feet, brushing the dirt from his overalls. In the distance, the battle continued to rage on, not far, but far enough that it was clear that any sort of aid was beyond his grasp.
"Nothing personal, but you know what they say: If you want to kill a snake, you should cut off the head." The metallic mouse smiled softly.
"Hmmm, can't say I've ever heard that one, before. I tend to just avoid snakes." the farmer replied.
"A sensible course of action. A shame you refused to follow it. When we first met in that decrepit city of yours, I was more than happy to let you and your friends go. You weren't worth killing. You just couldn't give up, though, could you? Had to keep trying to get more allies and make a nuisance of yourselves."
"This wasn't exactly how I had planned on spending my days, either, Miss. You gave us precious little choice." Jebediah said, cricking his back as he rose to his full posture.
"Well, I don't see any point in playing the blame game. What's done is done, and I'm afraid it's time to end this." Gwendolynne raised her wrist blade, stroking a metallic finger of the opposite hand along its keen edge. "Any last words?"
"Hmmm..." Jeb said, resting his chin in his palm, clearly giving the matter some genuine thought. "I'm afraid I hadn't prepared a speech or anything. Although I suppose I do have something. Really, just a question which I'd really appreciate an answer for."
"Heh. Fine. What is it?"
"Well, it's about that arm of yours..." he said, pointing a calloused finger towards the mechanical limb, which still had the long blade extended from it. The opposite arm wasn't an exact match, still having a bit of furred shoulder and upper limb remaining, the rest entirely machine. "Is it entirely metal? Meaning no flesh at all to it?"
"Of course." The platinum angel smiled, wearing an expression of genuine pride as she looked down at the cybernetic limb. "I cast away that feeble flesh when I was but a child, and replaced it with something that is far, far superior."
"Ah, I see. Thank you." The farmer nodded.
Shik.
There were a series of thuds as the metal arm, blade still attached, fell to the grass in several pieces. "W-what..." Gwendolynne stammered, her eye wide and locked on the destroyed limb.
"I just wanted to make certain that it wasn't actually flesh and bone underneath." Jebediah nodded. It obviously wasn't, as while strong, the limbs were much thinner than flesh ones, but I suppose that he just wanted to be positive. He looked down at the wooden scythe in his paws, which the general hadn't even seen him draw from his back. "This is a tool, after all, and not a weapon. It isn't made for cutting flesh." he softly chuckled, "I suppose one could make the very good argument that it isn't made for cutting metal, either, and until not long ago I would have agreed. My allies helped me to realize, however, that my attitude required a little flexibility."
He paused, looking up from the wooden blade to meet the gaze of the metallic mouse. "A tool like this is meant to cut when needed. And I saw something that very much needed to be cut." he said, his expression going cold as he locked eyes with the enemy general. "I'm sorry, I implied that I only had one question earlier, but it would seem that I have another. It's about that head of yours."
"I-I..." she stammered once again, eyes wide, sweat running down her face as she awkwardly backed up a step. The entire demeanor of the farmer had changed, his gentle mannerisms abandoned, now more closely resembling those of a cold and soulless beast.
"I have a pretty good idea, but well, you know. That arm of yours looked somewhat similar to an organic one, and I would hate to act under false assumptions. Is that head of yours entirely metal as well?"
"No! It's all flesh and blood! Completely!" she blurted out. This was, of course, a lie. Even at a glance, some of it was clearly artificial, but that said, most of it, did indeed look to be living flesh, still covered in fur.
"Really? Are you sure?" Jeb asked, his cold expression falling away, replaced with one of mild disappointment. "I ask because it would be really convenient if it were just mechanical."
"Yes! 100% certain!" she tried to force a smile and succeeded to some small extent, but her trembling lip betrayed her obvious terror.
"Ah, I see." he nodded. "A pity, then."
At this, the platinum angel Gwendolynne leapt backwards, and raised her other, still intact metallic arm. A metal barrel protruded from over the wrist, which she pointed straight at him. Or tried to, anyways. Her arm just wouldn't stop shaking, along with the rest of her, the severed bit just under the opposite shoulder continuing to randomly hum and spark. As for Jebediah, he remained still, looking to the barrel with a curious, seemingly unguarded expression.
The clockwork mouse gritted her teeth and glared at him, preparing to fire, but instead cursed under her breath, pointed the arm to the sky, and fired off a large projectile which flew straight upwards before bursting into a heavy cloud of red smoke.
Back at the battlefield, All eyes turned to this, and the enemy troops looked to one another with confusion. "Retreat? But... why?" One asked another.
"We have our orders." The other soldier called, their voice even more heavily digitized than Gwendolynne's. "All forces, fall back and withdraw!"
As it turned out, those elite troops could move quite quickly across the battlefield, but that was nothing compared to the speed of their retreat. Even when partially blocked, their mechanically augmented legs could sprint at an amazing rate, and before any of the allied forces knew it, every one of the elite augmented troops had vanished.
Jebediah had a similar reaction. He looked up to the burst of red smoke for but a moment, only to turn back to see that, with the exception of the ruined bits of her right arm still smoking in the grass, no trace of the platinum angel had remained. With the battle, or the former battle still within earshot, it wasn't a particularly long walk to rejoin his allies, who, in turn, had met him half way. Meryll awkwardly limped, leaning heavily against the dark lord, Augustus, but had refused any aid beyond that. All of the recognizable faces stood alongside her, including Annabelle who, despite having mildly singed whiskers and seeming more than a little bit disoriented, was no worse for wear, being helped along by a completely unwounded Samson. Even Dave had, apparently, escaped the battlefield without injury, but then, he likely wasn't considered to be a high priority target, either, even if an easy one.
More and more mice began to crowd around. There were no signs of fatalities, but also no shortage of injuries, some quite severe. The mouse woman who had been previously shot through the ear had taken another bullet to the head, but at a fortunate angle where it simply grazed her skull rather than piercing it. Still, it left a new, long cut across her scalp, one which would surely result in a rather nasty scar, something that she was already quite sensitive about.
"What happened?" Samson asked.
Jebediah simply shrugged. "I guess the general just had somewhere else she needed to be."
Nobody considered that to be a satisfying explanation, not even close, but those closest to the farmer figured that it was the best that they could have hoped for. As for Jebediah himself, he looked out onto the growing crowd with a relieved expression. At first. It quickly dissolved into one of concern. "That's strange. It feels like someone is missing."
"I scoured the battleground thoroughly. There were no corpses to be found, on our side or theirs. Everyone should be here." Sellas said.
In response, Jebediah simply shrugged. "Maybe it's just my imagination then."
Of course, it wasn't just his imagination. Someone was, indeed missing. That person just happened to be me.