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WHO: Derrica and Allumin
WHAT: Summary of content
WHEN: Late August, early Kingsway
WHERE: Between Wildervale and Starkhaven
NOTES: mission notes.

Days pass.

Between them is a little book passed off by the last pair to occupy this observation point; over the past few days their shared notes have picked up where the last team's had left off, filling the pages and detailing the comings and goings of Imperium soldiers. It's not exciting work. But there is some sense of accomplishment. They have done exactly what they were meant to do, and Scouting will be able to make something of this.

Derrica is not a scout, doesn't exactly understand the work, but they've more or less managed their piece of the work. She's propped her chin on one hand, attention on the river, even as she asks, "Do you need to stretch your legs, or are you alright to wait a little longer?"

Now might be as good a time as any. It's quiet. (It's been quiet, apart from what the passing boats.) And he's so much taller than she is that it is probably a real necessity for him in a way it isn't for Derrica.

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Yes, that would be a risk. Allumin is far taller than her, but he is not brawny. Maybe he would do well in close quarters, but maybe—

Well, she is a healer, so that is something, at least.

"You should see Enchanter Rowntree in the training yard. Maybe it would be helpful to learn how to be familiar with something you can use at a little bit of a distance."

Or that they put him in better armor, but the two things go hand in hand. If his magic is unpredictable, Derrica doesn't know whether that will continue for the duration of his time here, or if it will settle after months of acclimating.

And regardless, it has felt more and more urgent to her that mages are equipped with the means to defend themselves, even against things that negate their magic.

"I've meant to put a blade at the end of my own stave," she tells him. "Once I have the coin for it."

There's a thoughtful nod at the suggestion - he's been meaning to do so, actually, especially after having been extended an offer of guidance over the crystals. Things simply hadn't lined up - finding himself on the training grounds when the man wasn't around and busy with tasks presumably when he was. He'd have to do something about his schedule when this is wrapped up and they're back at the Gallows.

His eyebrows then raise up in interest.

"That's an option?" he asks, trying to keep his voice reigned in at simple curiosity. Typically blades were not attached to spell-focusing tools back home, so the concept of a staff with a blade on it suddenly makes the concept of wielding more interesting (more aesthetic, really). Once the full length of her words has had time to sink in, the urge of material generosity begins to bubble up within him from a place that has forgotten that he does not have the same privilege of wealth here that he'd had before.

He stops himself before he can say any sort of overeager commitment to help pay for it and instead asks, "How much more do you need?"

"I don't know the exact amount, but it's likely more than I have on hand."

A little self-deprecating. If she managed her coin a little better, then it might be easier. But this is still only a half-formed idea, one she has been toying with on and off in the months since the dream. It's been nearly a year now, and she isn't so certain the blade would be useful to her.

However, to Allumin's question—

"I suppose I could have it removed easily if it didn't suit me. Not every mage is skilled with that sort of combat. Especially if you don't like to be up close."

The last point is said with a little smile.

There's a sheepish smile and a nod in return. He really prefers the security of being at range from an opponent, but fortune favors the prepared hence being trained on how to use a dagger in the first place.

"Can you borrow one with a blade from the armory and practice wi--"

Before he can finish his question, he stops as the sounds of voices drift closer and closer to their position from the direction of the river. Allumin's expression shifts to one of alarm, stepping quickly as he can to hide behind the tree they'd descended from only a few moments ago.

It's just as well he shifts, because Allumin is the taller of the pair of them. Easily spotted, if anyone were paying attention. Derrica drops into a crouche behind the bushes, vanishing from sight as the scraping sound of a boat dragging onto the sand heralds the arrival of soldiers.

Derrica glances up at Allumin, eyes wide.

This has never happened. Not in weeks have the soldier come ashore. The patter of their conversation carries, complaints and ribbing as they move about the riverbed. There is the clatter of weapons. Snippy critique of someone's armor. Derrica hears the name of a village.

She reaches over, just able to catch hold of his calf from where she's crouched. There's no way he hasn't heard, but there's also no way to communicate her own alarm other than this without risking being overheard.

There's a startled twitch at the grip on his calf, jaw clenching to choke back any sound as he'd been trying to get a small peek around to see how many and also how far... or close. Then, he lowers himself down into a crouch as well, careful to stay tucked behind the girth of the tree's trunk as he does so.

He does his best to follow the conversation - there's the more mundane, everyday talk you might hear anywhere like debating over whose turn it is to go fetch firewood for cooking dinner while others discuss plans. From context, it sounds like a plan to raid a small settlement nearby? Oh, of course, what irony it is that this would happen after the two of them had already been like 'hey, it's a good thing nothing actually happened because it's just us, right?'

Of course.

His jaw clenches a bit - sort of fighting with himself on whether or not to say anything, before keeping his voice down to a whisper as he looks to Derrica and asks, "Is that near here?"

"Close," Derrica answers. "A day's ride, maybe less for them if they intend to follow the river a bit farther down."

This is difficult to predict, and surely depends on the angle of their approach. Attack. It's going to be an attack, Derrica understands. Maybe they won't care enough to be subtle about it. Why would they? It's hardly as if the villages in this region are capable of putting up a real fight against trained soldiers.

Her expression crumples, worry knitting across her face as she answers him, before she turns to try and peer through the brush.

"Can you tell how many of them there are?"

"I didn't get a very good look but, um," he pauses, doing his best to call back what he's just seen to the forefront of his mind, "at least five? There might be a couple more."

He does his best to stay hidden as he peeks around the opposite side of the tree he'd looked from before, seeing if he can get a better look at the modest campsite they've set up. He thinks he sees a sixth person at least, stepping away towards the shore - presumably where their boats are to fetch something. Rations, or a map, or some other kind of supplies for planning maybe? He's not sure how, well, organized their operation is and if they have files or notes for their orders on their person. One would think? In any case, after trying to get a better look, he tucks back behind cover and turns to Derrica.

"Were you able to get a better look?" A beat. His well-partnered self-preservation instinct and cowardice begin to creep forward. "You're not thinking we should fight them, are you...?"

"We have to," Derrica says, so immediate that it marks out the obvious: she hadn't thought this would be a question. "Those villages won't be able to defend themselves."

Even between the two of them, somewhat outnumbered and Allumin with unreliable magic, likely had better odds than any of these small villages. They weren't equipped. They likely had no mages. They would be overrun so easily.

The soldiers sound self-assured for a reason, after all.

"You'll help me, won't you?" is a little prompting, as she looks up at him.

There's clearly some fear on his face as he thinks over the situation, her question, the consequences, all the different little variables. There's the part of him that wants to turn tail and come up with all number of rationalizations as to why it's better than him trying to help, and then there's the part of him that grapples with a differently selfish thought: what would people think if he did run away in favor of helping? The consequences of the two choices before him are both severe in their own ways...

He takes in a deep breath, and nods despite the anxieties in his expression.

As long as he doesn't die, he can reason with himself that any physical pain is more tolerable than the social consequences. Remembering the promise he'd made to Gabranth, the thought of what would await him showing up after leaving a member of Riftwatch to fight the enemy outnumbered sends a chill down his spine.

"Do you have, um, any thoughts then? Rough idea of a plan?" he asks, sinking back down into a crouch so that it's easier to keep their voices just between them. In an attempt to not be helpful and not place the sole pressure of planning on her, he says, "I have a spell that can make the area foggy, but it will make things harder for us to see as well as for them depending on how you want to approach things."

This is given due consideration, even as Derrica tries to consider their approach carefully.

"I can strike them with lightening," she tells him, one hand coming to brace on Allumin's knee as she twists to peer through the bushes and reassure herself of the number. The soldiers seem to be assembled by now, without any stragglers to surprise them. "If you can bring fog, it might help keep them from fleeing."

Derrica wishes she could pull out her crystal and ask advice. But they are here now, and there is no time to dawdle. So they must trust their instincts.

"Do you have any spells that would harm them?" is very blunt. She might have drawn this more gently from him under different circumstances, but here they are, being very plain about what they're both capable of.

More or less. There are things Derrica isn't inclined to share, especially not with people she doesn't know well.

There's a nod a little "okay" of affirmation as she speaks. At the thought of preventing escape (or, at least an expedient one), he thinks about anything that could be done to sabotage the boats - the easiest thing would probably be to push them off the shore under the cover of fog... Hm...

The inquiry pulls him out of his thoughts, blinking.

"Yes -," he says, and while it could simply have stopped there, there's an open-ended pause. His best spell for inflicting harm is the kind of magic he's been advised to use with discretion, but this seems like the kind of situation where restraint will result in worse consequences.

"Yes, I do," he eventually says with finality. If she wants to know more, he can explain later. "Unrelated to spells that can harm but still spell-related: you wouldn't happen to have a flask on your person, would you? I didn't think I'd need to bring one."

A flask?

Derrica's quizzical expression softens slightly as she considers the reasons a man might ask for a flask before a fight. Nerves, most likely. She shakes her head, brow pinched apologetically.

"I don't. I'm sorry."

Likely she hadn't brought one for the same reasons Allumin hadn't: they were meant to be working, observing, and anything that might distract them from that goal had been left behind.

"You'll do just fine," she reassures quickly. "I'll keep you warded with a barrier, so you can just concentrate on your casting."

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closed.

thank u

finger guns

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