Most drill sergeants are known for belittling untrained soldiers, explaining that their job was not to each swordplay, but to teach the soldiers how to avoid poking their eyes out with the sharp end of their blades.

Kara always thought it was an overdone joke, something most men used in order to gain an aura of hardness about them, to make themselves seem cold, apathetic and old and thus had to be wise. At one point Kara had hypothesized it was a trait shared by all species, as it common across the cities and even races.

After jogging with her sword unsheathed, however, Kara realized the grim reality-- it was very possible, as even she found her blade coming close to her face. Without a sheath, a misstep might cause the forgotten blade to cause an embarrassing situation.

And she was almost certain someone had poked their eye out in front of a decent crowd of soldiers. Naturally, everyone from one edge of the world to the other, if not the other side of the world, would have heard of it.

One mystery solved, at the very least.

Fortunately, everyone was too busy around her to give concern. In her absence, or rather because of her actions, the previous safe treading denizens have resorted to an all-out war with everything in sight. The shaking of the Ents as they stomped their limbs on slow-witted flesh, and that fell heroically by some substantial spell or axe work, threatened to crack the dry earth under her.

And no surprise, too. The storm was closing in, close enough that her naked eye could see the other end. Dark clouds slithered on the ground like a giant wave, crackling and spewing lightning in vicious roars. It was less than a few minutes away and it did not seem intent on slowing. The enclosing circle and growing tensions did the parties no good.

Those that had previously avoided encroaching on the Ents liars were now had little space to maneuver, lest they would come into shooting distance of the next party.

The real catalyst, however, were the ones that unknowingly stumbled upon the giant menses, upon which most promptly retreated into other Ents lair, waking the entire lot. In their escape, the Ents chased them in the vicinity of other parties, and because it was unlikely for any one party to have members proficient enough to conceal their Life Force, they were forced into fights.

Or to run away, thereby causing even more chaos.

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It was absolutely lovely to watch them scuttle about. For situations like this, and many others, Kara was glad to work alone.

Well, alone and a half-living goblin slumbering within the body she was permanently borrowing.

She jogged on, ignoring most of the fighting brewing around her, including the fighting within her. Something was happening with the Rat; his soul was in conflict with something. It wretched and pulled, but stayed submerged under. This was another reason why the Soul Trails were a deathsentence--if you did not die within your own mind, then those outside will do it for you.

A few hours was all it took for your teammates to abandon you. 

She returned her attention to the battlefield, counting the better half of a hundred, though she suspected most would fall in this period.

 A part of her--a tiny, tiny part-- searched for Caldain’s group. She wondered how they fared in the turmoil. If she was them, she would beat it out of there towards the center, as she was doing now, ignoring all the petty squabbles. Too much chaos and the chances of getting stuck in the middle of a battlefield was unfavorable in the best of times.

Every half-wit familiar with the history of the Games could get a sense of where the true rewards laid, and in this case, it would be the eye of the storm. The center.

A few instances barred her path, the first being a group of hunters who thought a wandering child was easy prey, and the other an Ent, sniffing the Life Force emitted as she jogged. The first was lost by speeding up, the second was by slowing down.

A particularly smart group noticed Kara’s smooth sailing through the battlefield. Seeing her leave gave them the bright idea of following along.

Unfortunately for them, Kara did not want to have a group of murdering thieves at her heels.

Kara jogged towards an Ent territory, walking once she reached within their sensing range. She glanced behind her, and was surprised to see the four men, and one vicious looking woman, deftly avoids the Ents territory.

At least one of them could see the concealed Ents, then. Her best guess was the woman glaring at her; she would be trouble. 

Kara placed her features in the back of her mind as a target of caution: she wore her black hair short and messy, as if she cut it with a sword, and had a face full of unsavory scars that were caused by a sword. It was enough to match the men she was with, as if it proved her worth. 

If one thing, it proved a deadly lack of care for the beauty of her face.

Glancing behind her, Kara noticed the group behind her gaining ground. It would be difficult to shake them off, and sprinting too quickly would alert the Ents around her.

Why did they seem intent on following her? That Life Force user, having seen Kara able to conceal adeptly, should have realized she was no easy prey.

How much were humans? One point? Three? Kara wasn’t sure. There was always a hidden reward mechanism. 

She had neither the Energy nor time to spare on those behind her; let them follow her.

Dodging a few more Ent camps, Kara made her way forward. Focusing on her Death Siren's Web, Kara spread out her Notes. She felt herself getting weaker the further they spread, but in quick, sonar-like bursts she was able to receive great intel. There were seven parties ahead of her, four on her side, and three coming from the other side of the storm.

Two of the four nearest to her already seemed to be skirmishing. Those were the biggest fools. They see possible enemies before them, and then they forget the big prize waiting at the end of-

As she got closer, she could see that one of them was Caldain’s. Of course, it would be Caldain. For all his talk of caution, he always ends up in the thickest of things.