Priorities

JP Lucian, Omni and Bandorchu

Ostiarium, Forest

While not understanding her reasoning for backing out right away, Tarmen caught on quick that she wanted information, not action. Her tone also hinted at a smug one up on their “partner”, something he could support fully. Better to keep him following than giving him the perfect chance for a betrayal.

Malacost followed in retreating wondering what the next steps would be. Maybe note down the camp and move on or discuss how to take them out.

Once they are far enough to allow speaking again, Alexis quietly explains.

“I want to see what other camps they might have. Might make one of them priority to take out.”

The group moved through the dense undergrowth in silence, barely a whisper among the trees. Alexis was just beginning to lay out her plan to survey other camps when a sudden sound pierced the quiet.

A muffled cry of distress echoed from the direction of the enemy encampment.

Many of them froze, instinctively crouching low, hands went to weapon. Another scream followed, this time clearer and unmistakably female. It was cut short with a harsh, sickening thud.

Marden, the Craven Pack's squad leader whispered, “Sounds like one of ours...”

Without further hesitation, Malacost growled.

From their hidden positions, they could just make out movement on the opposite side of the camp. Several figures were dragging someone toward the fires, bound and helpless. The faint light revealed a bruised and bloodied man in Helian garb, captured and brought for interrogation, or worse.

Malacost sneered, eager for the violence, thinking to himself. 'Finally, some fun.'

The Craven Pack, silent as ever, looked to their leader, who then looked to Alexis and Tarmen expectantly.

Tarmen didn't like the timing of it, but the others reaction led him to believe it was actual coincidence.

"I think this one just became a priority, Greyriver."

Alexis sighed imperceptibly. Of course.
She gave her friend a sharp nod.

“Couldn’t have put it better. Let’s get into position.”

Merging with the forest’s shadows, the Garrahn edged ever closer to the camp.

She kept eyes and ears on the captive, taking position from where she reconned she had the best shot at reaching them quickly once the assault began.

Keeping an eye on their "companions" Tarmen whispered to Alexis.

"Should we split up? Surprise them from several sides?"

Alexis nodded her agreement and looked at the squad leader of the Craven Pack, signalling him to distribute his men. He knew their skill sets better than she did after all.

Then she gave Tarmen her go ahead and wished him luck silently. Let’s see if they managed to get through this with knives upfront and in their backs.

She returned her gaze to the captive, trying to gauge whether this was supposed to be an interrogation or something else.

Others started to wake from their slumber and exit their tents with weapons ready.

The Arcadians roughly shoved the Helian man to his knees in the center of the camp, his head hanging low as blood dripped from a gash on his brow. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air stinging his open wounds. One of the warriors spat at him, the glob landing on his cheek, while another drove a fist into his gut with a cruel laugh, doubling him over in pain.

Around the flickering fire, a circle of Arcadians grew and watched in grim approval. One of them, bare chested, with spotted fur draped across the shoulders, stepped forward, muttering a prayer to Fosia. His voice, low and reverent, carried over the quiet night air. The others remained still, their faces set in grim focus, waiting for the death to commence.

The would-be executioner reached for blade at his waist, putting it to the man’s throat as his prayer continued and grabbed his hair leaning him closer to the fire. The captured man trembled and struggled against his captor.

A prayer to Fosia was not what she had expected to hear in the company of the Brotherhood. Yet again Alexis was bitterly reminded how little she knew about what was going on. So was the fire god playing games?
You know what? Probably. Seemed a sport gods in general enjoyed.
Did it matter, right in this moment?
No. No, it did not.
There was still a man about to be killed, and she would still try to prevent it.

As she pulled a sleek throwing knife from its sheath, she found her eerie serenity had yet to leave her. It was with that serenity she addressed the fire god in her mind.

‘If that is how you like to be venerated, Fosia, you and I will not get along.’

She took aim at the man conducting the ritual of sorts.
No, it didn’t matter for the time being. But maybe it would, concerning the hammer and whatever limited future she might have.

Alexis gave signal to her temporary squad and let the dagger fly.