Walther, Teion and Beetle continued walking down the path towards Ettermoor. They had left the healer and the seer behind with the injured Vatril soldier. It was just the three of them now. The dishonest, treasonous even, ones had fallen away, leaving only those truly loyal to Anaheer.

There seemed to be fewer and fewer bodies the further they went. They were still quite a ways from Ettermoor and the Anaheer army. It would be a long night's travel to get there.

Walther took stock of his shortened column.  The troll trainer, Beetle, had been a real trooper and performed his duties well, something for which the officer was grateful in the face of the others' intransigence.  He was someone Walther felt could be counted upon, come what may.

The mage, well... he was - so far - as loyal to the crown as he'd claimed during his previous revelation.  Something about him made Walther very uneasy, which made trust a difficult leap.  Yet, the man had supported Walther when it had mattered and so he had earned the benefit of the doubt. 

If only the damage wasn't so severe.  As burnt as he was, a fast march was out of the question.  At times the mage looked as though he would fall down and never rise again.  If only the healer had been more sensible - this mage was far more needful of healing than the almost-dead Vatril he'd chosen to waste his magic upon.  They might have made better time, and time was too precious to them now.

Walther tested his legs and noticed a distinct lack of the fatigue that could be expected after the march they'd already endured.  Perhaps this being dead thing wasn't as bad as all that - no fatigue, no need for food or water or likely sleep.  He could lead a forced march without consequence.  Militarily speaking it was a logistical miracle.

"General Lemond won't likely stop to camp, not this close to Ettermoor," he mentioned to the others as they walked.  "He'll press, try to engage the city by dawn.  At most, he'll pause for a brief rest."

He sighed - nothing for it, really.  "We should do likewise, and make up as much distance as we can at night, when discovery by the enemy is least likely."

Beetle nodded. It was a sound plan. "Captain," he said, voice barely a wheeze. "What do ya think they'll say? The officers I mean. About our..." he considered the word. "...condition." 

"I'd avoid mentioning it if I were you, especially if any mage is earshot." Teion said, his voice muffled slightly by the face wrap. "The compact of souls requires that any being found to be undead, friend or foe, is to be cut into pieces and immolated in heleos fire, an invisible flame that burns hotter then volcano fire. It is certain death, even for us." He looked at the pair, "We will need to be careful, until I can work out how to undo his damage we will need to keep our heads down, so to speak."

Beetle shivered at the mage's words, then winced when his arm twinged. "I don't feel like i want ta go eat my family or subvert the little ones to evils cause," Beetle whispered, more to himself than anyone else. He frowned down at the earth as they plodded along. "You mage's have got a cure though, right? For this kind of thing? That doesn't involve burning?" 

I've read hundreds of tomes over the years, and almost nothing mentions a recovery from our condition. It is a prescribed magic, binding souls to dead bodies, so there has never been much research done." Teion saw the look on the Troll masters face "However, if I have time to study what has happened to us then I should be able to guess at what can be done to help us, although it may take time. It would be less if we'd kept together." He said, more an afterthought then anything else.

After that thought Teion suddenly over a previously unseen corpse. After a few steps he sat down at the edge of the armies path with a soft groan "I cannot go further, I must rest a short spell. Are you willing to wait captain?" He asked as the pair turned to look at him.

"Yes... yes, of course," Walther replied.  The question had drawn him out of a deep series of thoguhts, none of which were happy ones.  When the trio was settled, he voiced with his concerns.

"I had thought our safest course of action was to rejoin the main force, but... now..."

To show uncertainty would be a bad idea.  He was the officer here, and he had to show confidence lest his charges fail in their resolve.  He had to know the right thing to do but he was quickly beginning to realize that he didn't know what he didn't know, and the list of dangers was growing.

"How is it you plan on hiding your condition once we regroup with our forces?" he asked Teion.  "If what you say is true then I may have made an unfortunate and uninformed choice in turning south.  I have no love for burning, myself."

"Don't know about you fine gentleman, and it's beyond me station to even say," Beetle whispered, "but I'll skewer any man or mage that comes near me with fire. On my oath I'm not a violent man, but that'll be the way of it sure enough." His eyes glittered fiercely in the night.

"Of course." Teion said to Beetle, knowing the troll herder wouldn't have a chance, but didn't wish to quash his hopes just yet. He turned to the captain "As for concealing myself, these wrappings will hide almost all the damage done to me, and I will be able to project a light aura of imperceptibility, making me largely un-noticed if we reach camp. as for yourselves, keeping clear of any mages will be enough if your wounds are covered. What will you tell the general if you meet him face to face?" Teion asked out of the blue.

"Wait a minute," Walther said, looking like he'd just remembered something.  "My tent, it was searched.  There were signs that I had been... attended to during my 'death'.  They think I'm already dead."

The officer turned to the mage and continued.  "They may accept that I'm not dead if I tell them otherwise, but the camp healers will want to make sure I haven't suffered from something else.  There isn't really any way for me to avoid that and not draw suspicion.  And if I do..."

His eyes traced back and forth between Beetle and Teion, the end of the sentence unspoken.  So will you.

Teion looked into the Captain's eyes, "Then you have a choice, either we take our chances with the army or we begin the long journey north and attempt to get answers from another source."

"Light!"  The captain's stifled curse through gritted teeth spoke to the severe frustration with the radical changes of the past day.  Life had ups and downs but had always carried a surety based mainly in knowing who he was and what he was about.  This had all changed with his death and now there was an entirely new set of circumstances to which all of the old ways of handling adversity and all the things which once could be depended upon as firmly as bedrock now no longer applied. 

He had been the third son to a high noble line, and so he'd made a life out of the army.  It had given him purpose, a positive direction in which to fulfill his noble duties, and a rare chance to make his own mark in the world, and he'd achieved a success beyond his expecations.  He'd been compared favorably to his older brothers, held up as an example for other younger sons of the crown to follow. 

Now, if discovered, these same people, that same crown, would chop him and burn him without pause.  It was madness.  He was the same person - inside his head he had not changed.  And to those whom he'd spent a lifetime serving and honoring with his triumphs he was an abomination to be destroyed on sight.  Everything had been twisted.  Nothing he knew was sure.

Or was it?  It was true, he hadn't changed except in body.  All of his skills were still alive and useful.  And he would apply them to this new puzzle and find an answer, just as he would break down and overcome a new enemy tactic or formation. It started with ruthlessly setting priorities, and the first in this case had to be survival.  He had to survive long enough to get his feet set under him and establish some form of equilibrium in this new undead world.

Walther swung his cloak off of his shoulders and balled it up before stuffing it under a fallen log by the roadside.  He looked his armor over.  It was fine and had served him well over many years, but now was not the time for sentimentality.  It was too obviously of the Anaheer style and marked him just as well as a flag would have.  He would have to exchange it for something more generic, more local, at his earliest opportunity.

"We will not find the safety I had assumed with our... with the forces under Lemond.  It need not be north, but I suggest now that we instead find some place where we can live unmolested for a few days while we study our options in more detail.  What say you two?"

Teion smiled under his wraps as he stood, "Then, from what I can recall about the land hereabouts, we have two choices. We either head west towards the mountains, where we will fined the mining village of Kerben. It is poor but has an inn and the population a friendly enough. The other choice is to head north-west, then north along the river Etter to the village of Holmeer. It has been savaged by war and the people are hard pressed, but mercenaries pass through there all the time, so our accents and appearance would not give us away. I fancy that Holmeer is the better choice, as it takes us closer to Anaheer, but in my state I would never make it alone, so I go where you pair choose to go."  The mage lent heavily on his staff, awaiting their response, although he knew it likely beetle Would follow Walther.

"I long for a map," Walther mumbled as he tried to remember the lay of the land.  He'd possessed a map of the area but it had been removed from his tent along with the rest of his officer's documents.  It made sense, really, given that he was considered dead and not expected to need them anymore.

"Mercenaries might help us to blend in, but the greater traffic means greater risk.  Perhaps a quiet inn in a friendly remote town is what we need.  What say you?" Walther asked them both.

"As I said, I'm with you for now." Teion said.

"Do either of you fine gentlemen remember of a stream nearby?" Beetle asked. "It's not spring yet, but I suspect a bit of a wash is in order before we meet any of our fellows." He gestured towards his blood-soaked tunic and torn armor and grimaced. "As for the where of it, I am but a poor trainer, and my pockets hardly jingle with gold, Captain. Perhaps a kindly homesteader would let us borrow the use of their barn? Best we avoid large crowds of folk until we know... uh..." he cleared his throat in an embarrassed whisper. "...exactly what we are?" 

Teion shook his head "We would do best to keep away from large numbers of animals. From what I have read, they will be able to tell that we are not among the living, and will wither attack us or try and flee from us. Also, we should avoid very isloated areas, as there we will be under far more scrutiny then in a busier area." He shifted his weight "Trust me trainer, I have spent many years of my life blending in with the masses to avoid notice, and a crowd will miss what an individual will see as obvious."
He then looked around at the ground as if casting about for something, "As for money, I may have a solution for that, although it will take me time to assemble what i need."

Beetle shrugged. "I'm sure it's as you say, your worship." He looked at the Captain. "But best we be going wherever we're going, aye Captain?" Even raising his voice resulted in little more than a harsh whisper. He cleared his throat and cursed the Vatril blade that had done this to him.

The lord thought for another moment and then started to help the mage up. 

"We go back to the groups of dead along the road.  I never thought it would become a necessity but... we'll find equipment and garb more neutral, as befits mercenaries.  I'll work out a destination on the way."

Beetle nodded agreement. "Bit worried about this arm though," he whispered. "Wonder if it will heal if I let it be?" He waited for the captain to get the mage stable, then headed back towards the battlefield.

The walked back the way they came, passing by the spot where Cali and Harold had turned on them. They were gone and so was the Vatril soldier. Soon enough they got back to the battlefield. It was eerily silent, nothing moved.

Beetle wondered what had become of his troll. "Poor thing, she's probably wandering about, scared and lonely," he whispered as he searched for clothing that would fit, trying to find garments not terribly steeped in blood. The silence was strange in a way; he expected that there'd had been more looters. There usually were after any great battle.

"Take what you need," Walther said.  "Clothing that does not reveal our origins, things that can be sold and are easily carried, weapons..."

After some searching they found some serviceable and fairly nondescript and mostly undamaged armor. It was a bit blood splattered, but there was little that wasn't here. There were plenty of weapons lying around.

Teion stood back, allowing the others to take what they needed. He was next to useless with physical weaponry, so chose to use it as rarely as possible. However, he did stoop to take an ornate dagger left lying by the body of some sort of officer, and also set about picking up odd shaped stones kicked up by the armies march, putting them in a fairly solid pack found cast away by some unknown solider.

"Captain," Beetle said, his voice lost in the soft night breeze. "Damn," he muttered, then trudged over to the officer, wincing every now and again as his injured arm was jostled. "Captain, I'm sorry to be a bother, I am sir, but with this arm I'm not going to be able to do much gathering without some help. I've found a bit of armor that should work over yonder,' he gestured with his good arm, "and some bits of broken pike that we might be able to use as a splint. I"d be very grateful if you could offer a wee bit of assistance when you've got yourselves sussed out." 

Walther shook himself from his dark thoughts and nodded.  "Let's go."

As they walked, the officer - former officer, he reminded himself - studied the troll trainer seriously for the first time.  He was a good man, a good soldier, and he was taking to the radical change in life circumstances with grace and dignity.  walther found himself immediately liking this person.

"What is your name, trainer," he asked.  "From whence do you hail?"

"Same as it was the day I was born, your Lordship," Beetle replied, tugging at his forlock with his good hand. "It's Beetle DeHavros. And where I'm from is a wee village about 80 leagues to the south of the capital. Doubtful either of you fine gentleman have ever had chance to visit our poor village of Setterwell." 

"Setterwell... Setterwell..." Walther had trod almost every square inch of the kingdom and he searched his memory for the name.  "Setterwell... three roads meet at a well, around which the town was formed, with a... low stone wall running throughout and a single tall blue pine that grows behind the inn, is it not?"

"Well bless my buttons, you do know the place!" The troll trainer exclaimed in a loud whisper.

They picked through the bodies and their equipment, rearming themselves. The moon had passed its peak. The stillness of the night broken only by their quiet conversation, until....

Teion had finished his collecting and was standing to one side when suddenly felt a cold surge shoot up his spine, leaving his damaged body tingling. Some sort of powerful magical event had taken place, his attuned senses telling him exactly where it had occurred. "Captain!" the mage called out, trying to catch the man's attention whilst pointing to formless figures in the distance.

"Aye," Beetle replied, gesturing off into the night with his spear. "Group of em. Quite a few if I'm any judge." 

Walther had spotted them as well and his head swiveled this way and that, seeking cover.  They wouldn't make it all the way out of the field without being seen - too much open space - but there was a pair of overturned wagons near enough that would hide them for now.

"There, those wagons," he said to Beetle before turning towards the mage, who was too far for words but close enough that he should have been able to see Walther's signals to stay down and get to the wagons.

Teion saw the gesture and nodded, heading to the wagons as fast as he could. However, at his broken pace he was doubtful he could make the wagons in time. Mentally he began to prepare a spell, if it came to that.

Walther and Beetle jogged towards the wagons, with Teion trailing. There were bodies all around. As they approached a wagons the body of a soldier, the markings on his armor indistinguishable in the darkness, with an arrow through his chest twitched. He rolled himself over and started to drag himself to his feet.

((Starting a new thread. Go ahead and continue the conversation here.))