The Twins fell slowly, but steadily, and when the golden hour had come to Varda, the marching troops ceased their leisurely procession and made camp. From a kilometer away, hidden in tall grass and having tied bundles of grass, shrub branches, and leaves it to their persons to break up their outlines, a classical technique of the Iriel'en Hunters to camouflage themselves in places without trees, Ulric and Taipan watched with a predator's eye. The men were somewhat competent at raising their tents but there was a lack of the kind of precision and speed that rigorous training would have instilled. The display down below was one that was the result of merely occasional repetition over a few year's time, instead of intentional drill. Similarly, the arrangement of tents lacked a well-defined order.
Roman encampments were arranged in identical patterns, every camp, down to the positions of latrines, officer's quarters, and supply depots. A legionnaire in the Celtic lands could rotate to the North African campaign and find his bunk exactly where it should be. Not so for these. Tents went up almost randomly and some were clearly furnished by the men themselves, instead of from a central supply, judging by the variance of fabric, style, and coloration.
Holy fucking shit, Ulric whispered to himself in disbelief, the mages had a huge silk longhouse. Red silk! They stood out like a bonfire against the night!
He turned to lay incredulous eyes on his mate and found her sharing his astonished gaze. The two looked at each other for a moment and said, in the same breath, "Assholes."
They very nearly broke into giggles at the demonstration of sheer ignorance of sound military doctrine.
"My mother would be through their camp collecting the officer's scalps inside of an hour." She said without audible exaggeration.
Were her ribs and thigh not still banged up he didn't doubt that she'd tie an impressive number to her belt herself.
They had proven that the injuries weren't well enough for her to be truly combat ready though, not long after bypassing the free people's little village her normally ample strength failed and Ulric carried her the rest of the way. She wasn't a whole lot heavier than his pack was most days so he didn't much mind. Even though it was kind of a heavy pack. And he very tactfully did not mention the necessity. There had been more than one occasion in which his Shadow had been forced to haul his big ass around. It was just the way the pendulum swung on Varda. Told you so’s could wait until their nuts were well and truly away from the fire.
Ulric was a little more reluctant to engage in any sort of drawn out fighting with his partner vulnerable. It wasn't worth the risk. Her dissatisfied little squint and the odd flick of her ears made her displeasure with herself clear. He didn't need to tell her that her coming had been a mistake, a misjudgment, on account of they both knew it. Just like they both knew the only real reason she'd insisted was that she was worried about him, given the state he'd come back the previous day.
His own bruises hadn't yet faded, though most of the swelling had receded. Now he just had some real interesting patterns of blue-black contusions and snored louder when he slept from getting his beak mashed real good like. So, being that they both knew the score and neither was willing to get all sappy and talk about it, they just accepted the situation and adjusted, deciding to play things safe. Tonight, they'd simply put down a nice little poison bubble and then they'd scoot, nothing fancy, no fireworks, minimum risks.
Damned if he wasn't glad to be on the giving side of an unsuspecting ambush, he was getting a little fed up with shit sneaking up on him. Not that the goats had done much sneaking, he'd had that one coming. Bastards.
"I don't think any of your parents would have much trouble cleaning up this rabble, in all truth lass." Ulric replied to her, after having watched a little more.
The sloppy camp, the disorganization of kit and haphazard placement of armor and weapons, some of the soldiers even shedding all of their armor to sleep comfortably, and posh tents marking out the Mages and officers were a little bit tragic. This was going to be straight up unfair, just like any good war should be, when conducted by professionals.
Evening wore on, the soldiers drank, gambled, and made merry. Some men laughed and bitched at one another with an almost care free mien, others sullenly chewed on their rations and turned in early, more than didn't. Tents shared by occupants had lamps shuttered as the night wore on and full dark fell. The camp slowly wound down to sleep, the men of the garrison resting from their march. But not all of them.
Taipan's prediction held true, a full third of the force remained at full readiness and, in one of the few shows of discipline amongst them, held to a strict picket line with pairs of soldiers staying in sight of at least one other pair at all times. It was a precaution against archers shooting from the dark, and also of any particularly stealthy beasts that might also be capable of slaying two men too swiftly for them to raise alarm. Something like a [Shadow Panther] came to Ulric's mind. Whatever the case, this watch arrangement had likely come into being as a result of terrible bloodshed.
The Coven rose high over the lands, closer to their crescent phase, an impressive triad of silver scythes throwing earie shadows across the land below. Those shadows were a god send. They would make getting closer to the camp far easier, breaking up outlines and hiding motion. This next bit would be the tricky part. To maximize the chances of getting those Mages out of the picture, they needed to get the poison bombs, of which his lovely lass had three prepared, as close to the Mage's tent as possible. Ulric had a good arm, but he figured he could still only lob the thing a hundred meters and come anywhere close to hitting where he threw. Good old Rugby, the bombs were about the same weight as a game ball, if half the size. He could do it, especially with three tries. But they needed to get within spitting distance of the edges of the camp and that wasn't going to happen with those patrols.
All of this was to say that, right now, he and his guillied Aes'r partner were currently very slowly creeping along the ground on their bellies towards the South end of the camp so that they could kill two sets of guards quietly and quickly enough for him to throw the bombs, set the [Skyshield] barrier, and vamoose, carrying his wife as they made their way back to the forest. Easy.
Resisting the urge to spit out grass that was in his mouth, he lie still, watching the pair of patrolling soldiers about twenty meters away as they met their patrol partners, before turning to march the other way. The time to strike was when the pairs came together, it put all four in one place and without the eyes of the others being able to see for just that narrow window of time. Four armored men, simultaneously, in total silence. That was not so easy. Not for him, anyway. This here, this was work for a Taipan and the one he'd gotten himself into bed with was eager for the challenge, even if she was already gritting her teeth from the expected pain of pushing herself hard, short a duration as that might be.
It was time. Ulric was positioned on the flanks of the left two guards, with Taipan closing stealthily on the right two. His eyes hurt against the light of the torches the men bore, having adjusted to the dark and avoided looking directly at those bright flames to preserve his night vision. Those same flames had illuminated the immediate surroundings of the patrolling troops but prevented them from seeing beyond, into the dark. Ulric was able to get to within a mere four meters of his targets flanks. Taipan was even closer, her brown skin, dull colored clothing and expertly deployed natural adornments blending perfectly into the ground cover so that she was a mere two meters behind her soon to be victims.
How Ulric's pair didn't see her was beyond him. On the other hand, he hadn't seen her at all for the last fifteen minutes of their gradual vector onto the confluence of the patrolling soldiers, and he'd known exactly where to look. Truly, the mark of the master was to make something you cannot do appear not only doable, but easily so. Enough, the moment of truth.
Exploding into motion Xef'tocht came free of its sheath with a twist and bounding strides of powerful legs took Ulric into the shadows of his targets, hiding his figure behind them while he came in low and fast, like a lion from the darkness. The pair of soldiers facing him noticed movement and their eyes widened as the armored figure came into their vision, their mouths opening to sound alarm. A humming swing of his sword sent the blade through necks just starting to turn to see what brought their comrades to alert.
The heads came free, lifted high into the air, spinning from the momentum of his stroke and the two faces shocked at the sudden violence froze and twitched, Taipan resolving behind them as she twisted the stilettos she reserved for such tasks that she'd driven behind their ears, up into their skulls, killing them instantly. The dead men dropped in a heap, or would have, had his mate not caught them both with a pained grimace and bore them quietly to the ground. Ulric was catching his two by the collar, and hauling them to a soft fall. Decapitated heads hit the turf with a muted thump.
Over and done, in a second, maybe two. Already his Shadow had the three poison emitting smoke bombs free from their pouch and Ulric lit them with an incredibly fine pulse of magic from his core, a brief flash of Ceraun's spark, the first magic he'd used.
Well trained Adepts could feel the draw of magic from another working the aether, especially if they did so with a sloppy construct that, metaphysically speaking, sloshed excess mana from gaps in the spellform. Spells created from incomplete understanding of the Way, the interplay of forces, objects, and mana influencing them, were "loud" for those with a refined mana sense to detect them. Ulric and Taipan had committed to not using any Akashic abilities or magic until right here at the end, to maximize their chance to go undetected by the Composer and his Choir.
One, two, and then three, Ulric lofted the globes containing virulence into the camp and then drew his power, mental algorithm forming Ceraun into white magic and then attuning that to Cealum, as he snapped a wide, shallow dome of stilled air around the camp, thin enough to hold the gas that even now rose up in the camp's firelights, pooling against his [Skyshield], with its grey green roil.
Unceremoniously, the reforged man lifted his mate over his shoulder, her thighs against his chest and her waist folded over his back. Then he took off, running hard, ignoring the sound of his boots against the soft earth. Speed was king here, already shouts of confusion were starting to be replaced by coughing retches.
"Gonna pick up the pace now lass, hold on so my armor doesn't hurt you." Ulric warned, before saturating his form with the crackling energy of lightning.
[Surge]
It felt a bit like plugging yourself into a light socket, humming, vibrating energy, filling you with power. His gait didn't change but his speed doubled, at least, and the night air piled against his face. Holding the amplification hurt, tore at his muscles and joints that were not, even so robust as they are, ever meant to endure these kinds of strains. He kept it up for a whole thirty seconds, at the end of which he was half a kilometer away, having run like a godsdamned thoroughbred. As he pulled up, panting hard, legs burning fiercely and every bruise feeling like somebody had just recently frogged it, he knew he'd pay for that sprint all the next day. But it was worth it, to see them safely away from the garrison's soldiers.
He let down his not so featherweight Elven partner and they continued on into the night, gaining ground. Shouts were now rising up, calls to arms, screams of pain combined with dying wails, a cacophony that told them that their gambit was having effect. Soon enough, someone would panic and flee through his barrier, likely shattering it, as [Skyshields] over that large an area were not sturdy in the slightest. It should be enough. The brood mother they'd done this to had perished inside of a minute, with only one globe's worth of toxic gas. Three should have done terrible, terrible damage to even those exposed for a mere few seconds.
Ulric very carefully compartmented the knowledge about what they’d done to those people into a little box and stuffed it somewhere to give him nightmares later. Right now, he needed to be a hardass.
Traveling more slowly now, to account for Taipan's reduced pace and Ulric's own strained limp, they did not make the forest's treeline until dawn.
"Taipan, I dunno about you but I think we pushed ourselves a little hard on that one." The aching man stated the obvious.
Signing "You think?" his partner was in sarcastic agreement.
"Yeah, well, I think that was still better than trying to stage a raid with a bunch of cripples or me going in guns blazing against the whole lot of them. This way, if any of them made it out of that, they aren't gonna be happy about it. Ought to buy us time, at the very minimum." He summarized.
"Peace, Glade Chief, you are right." Conceded his partner, whose idea this had been in the first place.
"I am just grumpy from pain and at my injuries lingering so. You were held back by my presence and I do not care for the taste of that." Apologized the proud woman, a rarity from her.
More than once, Ulric knew for fact that his Shadow had gotten herself injured because she'd been unable to utilize her hit and run talents to their fullest, forced into situations to keep his own person safe, as her now self-imposed duty commanded.
"None of that now, love, you did as you felt was right and I'll not judge you for it. We are not always perfect and we've been pushing hard, without respite, for a good damned while now. Tell you what? Let's get back to the caravan and both of us take a turn on the wagons today." He suggested.
It should be fine, they'd scouted the area thoroughly by this point and the few able Orlethrem in their party could scout in groups of three, rotating frequently to avoid pushing themselves beyond their strength. Ulric and his mate had been expending themselves instead, to give the Elves a chance to recover. Whoever had survived their little trick were going to be doing what they were going to be doing regardless, so best thing they could do is get rested up to face it.
A few hours past day break they returned to the camp, to find the Orlethrem refugees preparing breakfast and going about the usual morning routine.
"On come the heroes, looking like a rough patch of heroing!" Greeted one.
"Like five leagues of dragged ass, if you ask me." Declared another.
"Don't worry friends, you can both find comfort in my bed if you like, I'll even throw myself into the bargain, both together or one at a-ooph! Why'd you hit me?" Came another call.
Ahh yes. Good to be home, Ulric remarked to himself.
"Can any one of you bastards remind me why I bothered pulling your asses out of those torture camps?" Ulric asked aloud, quite rhetorically. Which didn't stop him from catching a broadside in retaliation.
"You owe some Elf Lord money", "Inborn desire to serve your betters", and "Hero fetish" were amongst some of the guesses provided. Snarky fuckers, he couldn't wait to be rid of them so he could travel in peace, with only the ravenous monsters trying to eat him for company.
Fortunately, the ribbing was just a form of entertainment and they'd had their fill. That and the harassment had taken on the feel of ritual. These Elves would be lost without someone to lead them, without someone to clear the way forward. Nobody said it aloud, but Ulric and Taipan were most of the reason they hadn't chosen the cliff. He and his mate had given them hope that there could be a path home, out from foreign shores where they'd come so close to abandoning the will to live. He didn't know where they'd go, once he got them back to Orlethrem, but that was a problem for Brighteyes and the other Aes'r Lords to figure out.
Now that they'd gotten the welcome out of the way he went to check what was being stewed. Taipan's deer thing was already gone, devoured by the camp yesterday. Ulric's nose wrinkled at the bouquet of strong odors coming from the cook pot. Not bad, per se, but definitely gamey. It would seem his little ducklings had figured out how to secure meat, whether by trapping or by some other method.
Excellent. One less thing on his plate.
Watching his partner's slow, careful movements as she went to lay on her bedroll, Ulric resolved that it was probably for the best that he bench her for the foreseeable future. A few days wasn't enough to let those bones mend and aggravating the injuries was just retarding the healing process. The twinge in his legs when he tried to get up from his meal served as ample warning that he was going to have to take some of his own medicine, [Surge] had extracted its cost from him, the punishment for feats greater than humans were meant to perform. So it was that he retired to join his companion and they dozed through the rest of the morning.
By the light that had him shading his eyes when he emerged from the teepee, it was just past the apex of the Twins' romp through the sky. Ulric only needed some four to six hours of sleep to feel refreshed, and his body had recovered much of its strength in that time. Just a slight ache, like that of a solid workout remained of his pushing his body's limits. He was pretty certain that, as he grew more accustomed to using his Akashic abilities, his class was adapting him to itself, making him better suited to wield those powers. Similar to how his core had had to adjust his body to its mana flow. Bathe's techniques for cycling and saturating himself with mana were aiding in this endeavor.
Taipan he left behind, still dozing fitfully. Sleeping with broken ribs was a fitful process, at best.
He was doing the rounds through the refugee camp, checking in on the wounded, seeing what aid might be required of him, and just generally keeping his finger on the pulse of the Elves in his custody when the catkin girl from earlier came charging into the small clearing, her face aghast.
Shit. Only one reason this Leor woman would be out of sorts, her darling boy must be-
"The garrison soldiers took my Brodin!" She wailed, choking on a sob.
"Barely a score of them came upon the freemen's village, sickened and weak, but still stronger than farmers, artisans, and their families! Brodin fought them, slowed them down, he even took the life of his former commander, the Composer! But they took him." The woman told them, in between sniffing, snot trailing, and generally ugly crying.
Doing his best to stay calm, to project a confidence that he didn't really have, Ulric tried to get the Leor calmed somewhat. He needed to know more if he was to do something about this situation.
"Alright, alright, it's a pickle and no denying, but I'll do what I can. First, I need to know what you saw, in as much detail as you can give me. When I go after them, it's going to be to put them down for good, and the better you describe these men, the better the chances I manage to see it done." Ulric spoke, evenly and smoothly.
Could he save her lover? Probably not, odds were better than even that they'd already executed the kid, which was kinda sad. He didn't say that though, let the tawny cat girl hope, for as long as that was reasonable. When he said he was going to her lad's aid, the feline features sharpened and she told him everything, including that many of them smelled like a latrine.
That was an important detail. The poison had worked, to some extent, including on the survivors. Less than half the soldiers present compared to the count when they'd started and the mage corp gone, given that the mage boy had managed to take the Composer down with him. Ulric would bet his boots that amongst the remaining troops were the hired mercenaries. The tough ones. But they weren't at their best, by the Beastkin girl's account.
If any time there was to push the attack this was it. He wasn't taking Taipan with him though, not again. Ulric had a feeling this was going to get ugly and he didn't want to have to worry that someone he cared about was in the area when he started slinging [Stormfire] and calling lightning. Besides, he was going to have to move quickly if he was to take advantage of the lingering effects of the poison. Every second he waited was room for them to recover.
"I've got it now," Ulric told one half of the love birds, calm and cold as a winter morning, "Thank you, for telling me what you could. I'm going. Stay here, rest, if you can."
She shook her head and her claws extended and she growled, "I can fight too! I will go and save-"
Ulric picked her up by her shirt so he could look her in the eyes directly, holding her easily with one arm.
"You. Are not. Coming. I will not have you under my feet, and you will die when I begin fighting in earnest, my powers do not discriminate between bystanders and enemies." He told her gently, but with iron in his tone.
There wasn't going to be any fucking around with this one. Ulric's core was saturated and he was fully intending on hitting those men with everything he had, magical, akashic, and otherwise. If only he could use [Vortex Flare] on the fly. It was too new though, too clumsy. He might be able to use [Cloud Hammer], if they weren't too spread out, but he'd have to wait and see. Too much was estimation, until he saw the battlefield for himself. Ulric hated not having a plan, but he'd just have to play this one by ear.
Softly, he set the girl down, her eyes wide at being handled so casually saying much, though she said nothing.
"Great Oaf!" Scolded a random Elf woman, "You didn't need to frighten her, now come, girl, sit by the fire and wait with us. We will sing with you and feed you from our pot while the [Lord of the Ancient Glade] sees to our enemies. Please, don't mind him, the Glade Chief over there is terrible at people."
A young Legranel woman with one arm gone at the elbow, led the Leor away, sticking her tongue out at him as she did.
Scowling at the retreating backs he bit his tongue before he told the girl she was terrible at driving stick, which wouldn't have worked anyway because none of these people knew what a standard transmission was, or that he was laying a hum dinger of an amputee joke on them. Terrible at people, phooey! Next group of Elves were on their own, he wasn't even sure why he bothered saving people.
His grumbling was cut short by the presence of Taipan at his shoulder.
"So then, you are going to war today." She stated, without preamble.
He nodded, "Yeah. I guess I am. I said I'd try, and this shit isn't going to get any easier by waiting." he told her, though he was sure she already knew that.
"And I will not be going with you, will I?" His Shadow asked, frowning hard at him.
Sighing, he turned to look at her, since she deserved to have him look into her eyes when he made her stay behind.
"No, Taipan, you are not going with me. I would be glad to have you, would count myself blessed to know you held my back, but you can barely run, and you cannot pull your bow. I would not risk you being caught up in a spell that you could not avoid, and working around you would get us both killed." He said bluntly, saying aloud what they both knew.
His mate was a veteran warrior, a Hunter of men and beasts and she knew a liability when she saw one. Right now, she was a liability. Skilled warriors would see her movement and know they had wounded prey and they would leverage that against him.
Turning so that he wouldn't see her face as she wore pure misery on it, she commanded him with surprising calm, "Then take my bow with you, and my arrows. It will save you mana, and allow you to strike first from range, possibly from stealth, if you do not forget what I taught you about stalking woods blind Valin."
Her hands held her bow, the one he'd made so long ago in the glade, a composite stave recurved bow, using [Steelwood], [Glassresin], and a core made from a rib of the [Forest Lord]. It was his bow, once upon a time and it had served him well in saving Brighteyes. He took it gently from her and shouldered it, the string over his chest plate. The quiver he looped into his belt, so that it hung next to his belt knife, the way he'd worn his own quiver in the glade. It was kind of like reuniting with an old friend.
Ulric pulled his wife in close for a fast hug, and then turned and began his run. He didn't really need to say anything and, if he did, he'd probably just fuck it up. Best to get on with the business and let his hands do the talking when he got back.
The forest flew by underneath his stride, limbs overhead bearing blurred foliage while he ran towards the site of the free people's village. It wasn't far from the refugee camp and that meant that he really only had one shot to handle this without risking the Orlethrem getting caught in the cross fire. Ulric called on his battle skills, [Warrior's Instinct] with its calm, cool layering on his thoughts, [Battle Rhythm], letting him fall into the flow of the fight as time went on, a potent sense of his place within the chaos, an intuition with regards to the next step in the dance. Beneath it all, the Lord Instinct raged and howled for blood. It lived for this, and, therefore, so too did he, since that primal thing was part of him now.
The Twins fell slowly, but steadily, and when the golden hour had come to Varda, the marching troops ceased their leisurely procession and made camp. From a kilometer away, hidden in tall grass and having tied bundles of grass, shrub branches, and leaves it to their persons to break up their outlines, a classical technique of the Iriel'en Hunters to camouflage themselves in places without trees, Ulric and Taipan watched with a predator's eye. The men were somewhat competent at raising their tents but there was a lack of the kind of precision and speed that rigorous training would have instilled. The display down below was one that was the result of merely occasional repetition over a few year's time, instead of intentional drill. Similarly, the arrangement of tents lacked a well-defined order.
Roman encampments were arranged in identical patterns, every camp, down to the positions of latrines, officer's quarters, and supply depots. A legionnaire in the Celtic lands could rotate to the North African campaign and find his bunk exactly where it should be. Not so for these. Tents went up almost randomly and some were clearly furnished by the men themselves, instead of from a central supply, judging by the variance of fabric, style, and coloration.
Holy fucking shit, Ulric whispered to himself in disbelief, the mages had a huge silk longhouse. Red silk! They stood out like a bonfire against the night!
He turned to lay incredulous eyes on his mate and found her sharing his astonished gaze. The two looked at each other for a moment and said, in the same breath, "Assholes."
They very nearly broke into giggles at the demonstration of sheer ignorance of sound military doctrine.
"My mother would be through their camp collecting the officer's scalps inside of an hour." She said without audible exaggeration.
Were her ribs and thigh not still banged up he didn't doubt that she'd tie an impressive number to her belt herself.
They had proven that the injuries weren't well enough for her to be truly combat ready though, not long after bypassing the free people's little village her normally ample strength failed and Ulric carried her the rest of the way. She wasn't a whole lot heavier than his pack was most days so he didn't much mind. Even though it was kind of a heavy pack. And he very tactfully did not mention the necessity. There had been more than one occasion in which his Shadow had been forced to haul his big ass around. It was just the way the pendulum swung on Varda. Told you so’s could wait until their nuts were well and truly away from the fire.
Ulric was a little more reluctant to engage in any sort of drawn out fighting with his partner vulnerable. It wasn't worth the risk. Her dissatisfied little squint and the odd flick of her ears made her displeasure with herself clear. He didn't need to tell her that her coming had been a mistake, a misjudgment, on account of they both knew it. Just like they both knew the only real reason she'd insisted was that she was worried about him, given the state he'd come back the previous day.
His own bruises hadn't yet faded, though most of the swelling had receded. Now he just had some real interesting patterns of blue-black contusions and snored louder when he slept from getting his beak mashed real good like. So, being that they both knew the score and neither was willing to get all sappy and talk about it, they just accepted the situation and adjusted, deciding to play things safe. Tonight, they'd simply put down a nice little poison bubble and then they'd scoot, nothing fancy, no fireworks, minimum risks.
Damned if he wasn't glad to be on the giving side of an unsuspecting ambush, he was getting a little fed up with shit sneaking up on him. Not that the goats had done much sneaking, he'd had that one coming. Bastards.
"I don't think any of your parents would have much trouble cleaning up this rabble, in all truth lass." Ulric replied to her, after having watched a little more.
The sloppy camp, the disorganization of kit and haphazard placement of armor and weapons, some of the soldiers even shedding all of their armor to sleep comfortably, and posh tents marking out the Mages and officers were a little bit tragic. This was going to be straight up unfair, just like any good war should be, when conducted by professionals.
Evening wore on, the soldiers drank, gambled, and made merry. Some men laughed and bitched at one another with an almost care free mien, others sullenly chewed on their rations and turned in early, more than didn't. Tents shared by occupants had lamps shuttered as the night wore on and full dark fell. The camp slowly wound down to sleep, the men of the garrison resting from their march. But not all of them.
Taipan's prediction held true, a full third of the force remained at full readiness and, in one of the few shows of discipline amongst them, held to a strict picket line with pairs of soldiers staying in sight of at least one other pair at all times. It was a precaution against archers shooting from the dark, and also of any particularly stealthy beasts that might also be capable of slaying two men too swiftly for them to raise alarm. Something like a [Shadow Panther] came to Ulric's mind. Whatever the case, this watch arrangement had likely come into being as a result of terrible bloodshed.
The Coven rose high over the lands, closer to their crescent phase, an impressive triad of silver scythes throwing earie shadows across the land below. Those shadows were a god send. They would make getting closer to the camp far easier, breaking up outlines and hiding motion. This next bit would be the tricky part. To maximize the chances of getting those Mages out of the picture, they needed to get the poison bombs, of which his lovely lass had three prepared, as close to the Mage's tent as possible. Ulric had a good arm, but he figured he could still only lob the thing a hundred meters and come anywhere close to hitting where he threw. Good old Rugby, the bombs were about the same weight as a game ball, if half the size. He could do it, especially with three tries. But they needed to get within spitting distance of the edges of the camp and that wasn't going to happen with those patrols.
All of this was to say that, right now, he and his guillied Aes'r partner were currently very slowly creeping along the ground on their bellies towards the South end of the camp so that they could kill two sets of guards quietly and quickly enough for him to throw the bombs, set the [Skyshield] barrier, and vamoose, carrying his wife as they made their way back to the forest. Easy.
Resisting the urge to spit out grass that was in his mouth, he lie still, watching the pair of patrolling soldiers about twenty meters away as they met their patrol partners, before turning to march the other way. The time to strike was when the pairs came together, it put all four in one place and without the eyes of the others being able to see for just that narrow window of time. Four armored men, simultaneously, in total silence. That was not so easy. Not for him, anyway. This here, this was work for a Taipan and the one he'd gotten himself into bed with was eager for the challenge, even if she was already gritting her teeth from the expected pain of pushing herself hard, short a duration as that might be.
It was time. Ulric was positioned on the flanks of the left two guards, with Taipan closing stealthily on the right two. His eyes hurt against the light of the torches the men bore, having adjusted to the dark and avoided looking directly at those bright flames to preserve his night vision. Those same flames had illuminated the immediate surroundings of the patrolling troops but prevented them from seeing beyond, into the dark. Ulric was able to get to within a mere four meters of his targets flanks. Taipan was even closer, her brown skin, dull colored clothing and expertly deployed natural adornments blending perfectly into the ground cover so that she was a mere two meters behind her soon to be victims.
How Ulric's pair didn't see her was beyond him. On the other hand, he hadn't seen her at all for the last fifteen minutes of their gradual vector onto the confluence of the patrolling soldiers, and he'd known exactly where to look. Truly, the mark of the master was to make something you cannot do appear not only doable, but easily so. Enough, the moment of truth.
Exploding into motion Xef'tocht came free of its sheath with a twist and bounding strides of powerful legs took Ulric into the shadows of his targets, hiding his figure behind them while he came in low and fast, like a lion from the darkness. The pair of soldiers facing him noticed movement and their eyes widened as the armored figure came into their vision, their mouths opening to sound alarm. A humming swing of his sword sent the blade through necks just starting to turn to see what brought their comrades to alert.
The heads came free, lifted high into the air, spinning from the momentum of his stroke and the two faces shocked at the sudden violence froze and twitched, Taipan resolving behind them as she twisted the stilettos she reserved for such tasks that she'd driven behind their ears, up into their skulls, killing them instantly. The dead men dropped in a heap, or would have, had his mate not caught them both with a pained grimace and bore them quietly to the ground. Ulric was catching his two by the collar, and hauling them to a soft fall. Decapitated heads hit the turf with a muted thump.
Over and done, in a second, maybe two. Already his Shadow had the three poison emitting smoke bombs free from their pouch and Ulric lit them with an incredibly fine pulse of magic from his core, a brief flash of Ceraun's spark, the first magic he'd used.
Well trained Adepts could feel the draw of magic from another working the aether, especially if they did so with a sloppy construct that, metaphysically speaking, sloshed excess mana from gaps in the spellform. Spells created from incomplete understanding of the Way, the interplay of forces, objects, and mana influencing them, were "loud" for those with a refined mana sense to detect them. Ulric and Taipan had committed to not using any Akashic abilities or magic until right here at the end, to maximize their chance to go undetected by the Composer and his Choir.
One, two, and then three, Ulric lofted the globes containing virulence into the camp and then drew his power, mental algorithm forming Ceraun into white magic and then attuning that to Cealum, as he snapped a wide, shallow dome of stilled air around the camp, thin enough to hold the gas that even now rose up in the camp's firelights, pooling against his [Skyshield], with its grey green roil.
Unceremoniously, the reforged man lifted his mate over his shoulder, her thighs against his chest and her waist folded over his back. Then he took off, running hard, ignoring the sound of his boots against the soft earth. Speed was king here, already shouts of confusion were starting to be replaced by coughing retches.
"Gonna pick up the pace now lass, hold on so my armor doesn't hurt you." Ulric warned, before saturating his form with the crackling energy of lightning.
[Surge]
It felt a bit like plugging yourself into a light socket, humming, vibrating energy, filling you with power. His gait didn't change but his speed doubled, at least, and the night air piled against his face. Holding the amplification hurt, tore at his muscles and joints that were not, even so robust as they are, ever meant to endure these kinds of strains. He kept it up for a whole thirty seconds, at the end of which he was half a kilometer away, having run like a godsdamned thoroughbred. As he pulled up, panting hard, legs burning fiercely and every bruise feeling like somebody had just recently frogged it, he knew he'd pay for that sprint all the next day. But it was worth it, to see them safely away from the garrison's soldiers.
He let down his not so featherweight Elven partner and they continued on into the night, gaining ground. Shouts were now rising up, calls to arms, screams of pain combined with dying wails, a cacophony that told them that their gambit was having effect. Soon enough, someone would panic and flee through his barrier, likely shattering it, as [Skyshields] over that large an area were not sturdy in the slightest. It should be enough. The brood mother they'd done this to had perished inside of a minute, with only one globe's worth of toxic gas. Three should have done terrible, terrible damage to even those exposed for a mere few seconds.
Ulric very carefully compartmented the knowledge about what they’d done to those people into a little box and stuffed it somewhere to give him nightmares later. Right now, he needed to be a hardass.
Traveling more slowly now, to account for Taipan's reduced pace and Ulric's own strained limp, they did not make the forest's treeline until dawn.
"Taipan, I dunno about you but I think we pushed ourselves a little hard on that one." The aching man stated the obvious.
Signing "You think?" his partner was in sarcastic agreement.
"Yeah, well, I think that was still better than trying to stage a raid with a bunch of cripples or me going in guns blazing against the whole lot of them. This way, if any of them made it out of that, they aren't gonna be happy about it. Ought to buy us time, at the very minimum." He summarized.
"Peace, Glade Chief, you are right." Conceded his partner, whose idea this had been in the first place.
"I am just grumpy from pain and at my injuries lingering so. You were held back by my presence and I do not care for the taste of that." Apologized the proud woman, a rarity from her.
More than once, Ulric knew for fact that his Shadow had gotten herself injured because she'd been unable to utilize her hit and run talents to their fullest, forced into situations to keep his own person safe, as her now self-imposed duty commanded.
"None of that now, love, you did as you felt was right and I'll not judge you for it. We are not always perfect and we've been pushing hard, without respite, for a good damned while now. Tell you what? Let's get back to the caravan and both of us take a turn on the wagons today." He suggested.
It should be fine, they'd scouted the area thoroughly by this point and the few able Orlethrem in their party could scout in groups of three, rotating frequently to avoid pushing themselves beyond their strength. Ulric and his mate had been expending themselves instead, to give the Elves a chance to recover. Whoever had survived their little trick were going to be doing what they were going to be doing regardless, so best thing they could do is get rested up to face it.
A few hours past day break they returned to the camp, to find the Orlethrem refugees preparing breakfast and going about the usual morning routine.
"On come the heroes, looking like a rough patch of heroing!" Greeted one.
"Like five leagues of dragged ass, if you ask me." Declared another.
"Don't worry friends, you can both find comfort in my bed if you like, I'll even throw myself into the bargain, both together or one at a-ooph! Why'd you hit me?" Came another call.
Ahh yes. Good to be home, Ulric remarked to himself.
"Can any one of you bastards remind me why I bothered pulling your asses out of those torture camps?" Ulric asked aloud, quite rhetorically. Which didn't stop him from catching a broadside in retaliation.
"You owe some Elf Lord money", "Inborn desire to serve your betters", and "Hero fetish" were amongst some of the guesses provided. Snarky fuckers, he couldn't wait to be rid of them so he could travel in peace, with only the ravenous monsters trying to eat him for company.
Fortunately, the ribbing was just a form of entertainment and they'd had their fill. That and the harassment had taken on the feel of ritual. These Elves would be lost without someone to lead them, without someone to clear the way forward. Nobody said it aloud, but Ulric and Taipan were most of the reason they hadn't chosen the cliff. He and his mate had given them hope that there could be a path home, out from foreign shores where they'd come so close to abandoning the will to live. He didn't know where they'd go, once he got them back to Orlethrem, but that was a problem for Brighteyes and the other Aes'r Lords to figure out.
Now that they'd gotten the welcome out of the way he went to check what was being stewed. Taipan's deer thing was already gone, devoured by the camp yesterday. Ulric's nose wrinkled at the bouquet of strong odors coming from the cook pot. Not bad, per se, but definitely gamey. It would seem his little ducklings had figured out how to secure meat, whether by trapping or by some other method.
Excellent. One less thing on his plate.
Watching his partner's slow, careful movements as she went to lay on her bedroll, Ulric resolved that it was probably for the best that he bench her for the foreseeable future. A few days wasn't enough to let those bones mend and aggravating the injuries was just retarding the healing process. The twinge in his legs when he tried to get up from his meal served as ample warning that he was going to have to take some of his own medicine, [Surge] had extracted its cost from him, the punishment for feats greater than humans were meant to perform. So it was that he retired to join his companion and they dozed through the rest of the morning.
By the light that had him shading his eyes when he emerged from the teepee, it was just past the apex of the Twins' romp through the sky. Ulric only needed some four to six hours of sleep to feel refreshed, and his body had recovered much of its strength in that time. Just a slight ache, like that of a solid workout remained of his pushing his body's limits. He was pretty certain that, as he grew more accustomed to using his Akashic abilities, his class was adapting him to itself, making him better suited to wield those powers. Similar to how his core had had to adjust his body to its mana flow. Bathe's techniques for cycling and saturating himself with mana were aiding in this endeavor.
Taipan he left behind, still dozing fitfully. Sleeping with broken ribs was a fitful process, at best.
He was doing the rounds through the refugee camp, checking in on the wounded, seeing what aid might be required of him, and just generally keeping his finger on the pulse of the Elves in his custody when the catkin girl from earlier came charging into the small clearing, her face aghast.
Shit. Only one reason this Leor woman would be out of sorts, her darling boy must be-
"The garrison soldiers took my Brodin!" She wailed, choking on a sob.
"Barely a score of them came upon the freemen's village, sickened and weak, but still stronger than farmers, artisans, and their families! Brodin fought them, slowed them down, he even took the life of his former commander, the Composer! But they took him." The woman told them, in between sniffing, snot trailing, and generally ugly crying.
Doing his best to stay calm, to project a confidence that he didn't really have, Ulric tried to get the Leor calmed somewhat. He needed to know more if he was to do something about this situation.
"Alright, alright, it's a pickle and no denying, but I'll do what I can. First, I need to know what you saw, in as much detail as you can give me. When I go after them, it's going to be to put them down for good, and the better you describe these men, the better the chances I manage to see it done." Ulric spoke, evenly and smoothly.
Could he save her lover? Probably not, odds were better than even that they'd already executed the kid, which was kinda sad. He didn't say that though, let the tawny cat girl hope, for as long as that was reasonable. When he said he was going to her lad's aid, the feline features sharpened and she told him everything, including that many of them smelled like a latrine.
That was an important detail. The poison had worked, to some extent, including on the survivors. Less than half the soldiers present compared to the count when they'd started and the mage corp gone, given that the mage boy had managed to take the Composer down with him. Ulric would bet his boots that amongst the remaining troops were the hired mercenaries. The tough ones. But they weren't at their best, by the Beastkin girl's account.
If any time there was to push the attack this was it. He wasn't taking Taipan with him though, not again. Ulric had a feeling this was going to get ugly and he didn't want to have to worry that someone he cared about was in the area when he started slinging [Stormfire] and calling lightning. Besides, he was going to have to move quickly if he was to take advantage of the lingering effects of the poison. Every second he waited was room for them to recover.
"I've got it now," Ulric told one half of the love birds, calm and cold as a winter morning, "Thank you, for telling me what you could. I'm going. Stay here, rest, if you can."
She shook her head and her claws extended and she growled, "I can fight too! I will go and save-"
Ulric picked her up by her shirt so he could look her in the eyes directly, holding her easily with one arm.
"You. Are not. Coming. I will not have you under my feet, and you will die when I begin fighting in earnest, my powers do not discriminate between bystanders and enemies." He told her gently, but with iron in his tone.
There wasn't going to be any fucking around with this one. Ulric's core was saturated and he was fully intending on hitting those men with everything he had, magical, akashic, and otherwise. If only he could use [Vortex Flare] on the fly. It was too new though, too clumsy. He might be able to use [Cloud Hammer], if they weren't too spread out, but he'd have to wait and see. Too much was estimation, until he saw the battlefield for himself. Ulric hated not having a plan, but he'd just have to play this one by ear.
Softly, he set the girl down, her eyes wide at being handled so casually saying much, though she said nothing.
"Great Oaf!" Scolded a random Elf woman, "You didn't need to frighten her, now come, girl, sit by the fire and wait with us. We will sing with you and feed you from our pot while the [Lord of the Ancient Glade] sees to our enemies. Please, don't mind him, the Glade Chief over there is terrible at people."
A young Legranel woman with one arm gone at the elbow, led the Leor away, sticking her tongue out at him as she did.
Scowling at the retreating backs he bit his tongue before he told the girl she was terrible at driving stick, which wouldn't have worked anyway because none of these people knew what a standard transmission was, or that he was laying a hum dinger of an amputee joke on them. Terrible at people, phooey! Next group of Elves were on their own, he wasn't even sure why he bothered saving people.
His grumbling was cut short by the presence of Taipan at his shoulder.
"So then, you are going to war today." She stated, without preamble.
He nodded, "Yeah. I guess I am. I said I'd try, and this shit isn't going to get any easier by waiting." he told her, though he was sure she already knew that.
"And I will not be going with you, will I?" His Shadow asked, frowning hard at him.
Sighing, he turned to look at her, since she deserved to have him look into her eyes when he made her stay behind.
"No, Taipan, you are not going with me. I would be glad to have you, would count myself blessed to know you held my back, but you can barely run, and you cannot pull your bow. I would not risk you being caught up in a spell that you could not avoid, and working around you would get us both killed." He said bluntly, saying aloud what they both knew.
His mate was a veteran warrior, a Hunter of men and beasts and she knew a liability when she saw one. Right now, she was a liability. Skilled warriors would see her movement and know they had wounded prey and they would leverage that against him.
Turning so that he wouldn't see her face as she wore pure misery on it, she commanded him with surprising calm, "Then take my bow with you, and my arrows. It will save you mana, and allow you to strike first from range, possibly from stealth, if you do not forget what I taught you about stalking woods blind Valin."
Her hands held her bow, the one he'd made so long ago in the glade, a composite stave recurved bow, using [Steelwood], [Glassresin], and a core made from a rib of the [Forest Lord]. It was his bow, once upon a time and it had served him well in saving Brighteyes. He took it gently from her and shouldered it, the string over his chest plate. The quiver he looped into his belt, so that it hung next to his belt knife, the way he'd worn his own quiver in the glade. It was kind of like reuniting with an old friend.
Ulric pulled his wife in close for a fast hug, and then turned and began his run. He didn't really need to say anything and, if he did, he'd probably just fuck it up. Best to get on with the business and let his hands do the talking when he got back.
The forest flew by underneath his stride, limbs overhead bearing blurred foliage while he ran towards the site of the free people's village. It wasn't far from the refugee camp and that meant that he really only had one shot to handle this without risking the Orlethrem getting caught in the cross fire. Ulric called on his battle skills, [Warrior's Instinct] with its calm, cool layering on his thoughts, [Battle Rhythm], letting him fall into the flow of the fight as time went on, a potent sense of his place within the chaos, an intuition with regards to the next step in the dance. Beneath it all, the Lord Instinct raged and howled for blood. It lived for this, and, therefore, so too did he, since that primal thing was part of him now.
