A wolf howled in the distance as the odd group of people crossed the battlefield. The night turned the bodies of the dead were turned into mere shadows, mounds rising out of the darkness. Rank and allegiance were lost in the shadows. Only the occasional glint of moonlight on metal distinguished one from another. Countryman or foe, it mattered not in the end. They were all dead. The path from the remains of the Vatril camp was a rough beaten road made by the regular traffic of soldiers and supplies to and from Ettermoor. It was relatively straight and clear enough that it could be traversed easily, even in the dark. However, signs of the battle persisted even here. Bodies were strewn along the path, cut down while they tried to run.

Teion sighed to himself as the path they took seemed to stretch on forever. His limp was becoming more pronounced as he leant more and more on his chosen walking staff. as they progressed he managed to collect a long cloak of dark green, some sort of decoration worn by the leader of a now deceased mercenary band. He was also able to gain some light gloves to obscure his hands and tore a length material of the bottom of the cloak,  wrapping it in a way that obscured his face, other then his eyes. This would allow him to stand up to all but the closest scrutiny by anyone they came across.
He stumbled again as they continued down this path, another dead limb hindering his movement. even so he continued on, his mind seemingly occupied with more important thoughts.

Tears dripped silently from Harold's eyes as he walked past all the bodies.  It was so horrible.  All these poor people dead for no reason.  He wanted to help them, but there was no way to do it.  Even before he died, he couldn't fix this.  There were too many, and he couldn't heal death.  Finally, unable to stand it any more, he fixed his eyes on the horizon and refused to look at the horrors around him.

Unlike many of the others, the seer kept an active eye on their surroundings.  She'd fell out of step with Walther early on, and after offering her condolences to the Healer, and assuring him that he would see the Vatril mage again, she allowed him too, to pass, until she was bringing up the rear.  Mindful that what she was doing would be distasteful at best to some of her companions, she did so sparingly and with as much respect as she could.  ...but when she saw something of value, baubles and trinkets or anything that spoke to wealth, she took some time to relieve the soul void carcass of it. There wasn't much. A few charms grasped in a vain hope of fending off the inevitable and some pouches of coins. The weapons and armor were by far the most valuable things around. When she was done, she would close their eyes and whisper a well meant but emotion void prayer to the corpse.

Walther walked point, not trusting any of the others to do so properly.  He had turned his cloak inside out, replacing the bright red with a wooly grey that hid him better in the dark and hid his station and rank as well.  Wisps of blonde hair danced in the occasional unseen pull of the night breeze which he never seemed to feel.  His boots moved with a steady march and made a soft cadence for the others to follow. 

If he had his way he'd have driven them harder to close the distance between them and the Anaheer forces faster, but the injuries displayed by some made that impossible.  The army wouldn't likely camp until they made sight of the city.  They were very close and there was a certain psychological advantage in having a population center wake up to find they are unexpectedly under seige with the enemy appearing right outside their door.

((Go ahead and post something as you're walking along. Reactions, thoughts, plans, etc. Once everyone's chimed in I'll jump ahead to a little ways down the path where you'll find the first event.))

The night wore on as they continued along the path. They weren't far from the battlefield when the began to hear something. It took a moment for them to realize that the noise was someone breathing. Other than the occasional gasp, the breathes were low and shallow. It wasn't hard to find the source, a soldier propped up against a tree at the side of the road. He had one hand pressed against his chest and there was a sword stuck in the ground next to him. In the darkness it was unclear which side he fought for, but he was clearly wounded.

Harold ran forward as soon as he realized the man was hurt.  Suddenly he didn't care that he might be dead.  He didn't care that he was tired and scared.  He just knew the man needed help and Harold could help him.  "It's OK," he said quietly as he bent down.  "I'll help you."  Harold was ready to examine the man's wound and decide if he had to call on his magic again, or if he could bandage him first and then heal him after Harold had rested.

Blood leaked from between the soldier's fingers. He had been stabbed in the chest. He made no move as the healer approached. His face was pale and his skin cold. He seemed to be awake, his eyes open, but they didn't focus on anything. It was a small miracle he had survived this long. Without some kind of help soon he would be dead by morning.

Teion looked over at the dying solider "There is little you can do for him healer, he is not long for this world."

"That is his venture, please don't dissuade him from his path." Cali said gently to the mage as she caught up with the others.  The words coming from her seemed ironic at best, considering her own attempts to keep the Captain from dismembering the Vatril mage. It seemed that to some degree the seer held herself apart from the others where matters of advice were concerned.

Walther had ignored the casualty in order to survey the scene.  He read the signs and figured it was a close-quarters battle between short units, maybe a dozen men to each side, and no magic.  He counted colors, corpse positions, and angles and deduced that it had been a Vatril patrol which had decided to set an ambush for the outrider scouts at the vanguard of the advancing Anaheer columns. 

His mind's eye walked through the scenario: the Vatril shut the door behind the scouts, engaged, and probably found their quarry harder to kill than they had assumed.  He turned his head to the west and saw two horses garnished with Anaheer red.  The scouts had broken out, flanked, cut off the easy exit for the Vatril and turned a guerilla engagement into a survival fight.  Whatever Vatril had survived their own ambush had spent too much time in the gambit and got overrun by the main forces or maybe another set of outriders. 

Walther spit and nodded his head in recognition of the bravery on both sides.  Some of these Vatril were worthy adversaries, but all of them were Light-cursed heathens and they would learn about the value of respecting borders if it meant conquering every major city on their frontier.

Harold ignored the others' comments and concerns as he bent over the man.  Gently laying a hand on the man's chest, he called upon his healing power again.  He knew it was dangerous to try and heal again when he was already drained, but he couldn't just let the man die. His power flowed into the soldier and the wounded man's eyes widened. He gave a little gasp, but it was more of surprise than pain. The flow of blood from his chest stopped and some color returned to the man's face. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on Harold's face. 

Harold's head was pounding. It was becoming really hard to concentrate, thoughts forming and flitting away before he could fully grasp them. He had used too much power too quickly. The ache in his head was spreading to his bones. He needed to rest soon. If he really pushed himself, he might manage one more spell, but the risks... it was hard to predict what would happen when a spell went wrong.

Gasping, not able to stand, Harold nodded at the man.  Through the throbbing in his head he perceived that the seer had stepped up behind him and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. "Rest," he managed to say weakly before sinking to the ground.

He concentrated on catching his breath, hoping the fatigue would lesson enough so he could walk.  At least his magic worked properly on people who were still alive.  He hadn't lost that much.

The seer let go of him once he was settled safely on the ground.  "Is there anything I can do to help you?  Would water help?"

"Whatever gets him on his feet," Walther suggested strongly, having returned from his reconnaissance of the area.  "If we stop to heal every wounded man between here and Ettermoor we're never going to make it."

The officer's eyes traced along the patient's form, trying to discern his allegiance.  "Soldier, what is your name and rank?" he demanded.

The soldier looked towards Walther, clearly still weak. "Robert, of the Doran Light Brigade, under Sergent Lawrence. We held them off as best we could sir." With the dark of the night he also couldn't see much.

Walther nearly growled in anger at the Vatril accent marking the soldier as the enemy as much as his allegiance to Doran, a known Vatril city and possible next target if he read the tea leaves right.  He stepped back and pulled the burned mage and the troll trainer aside.

"He's Vatril," Walther said, his disdain evident.  "We should be off quickly before he is able to deduce that we're not.  In truth, I'd feel much better killing him before we leave. What say you?"

Beetle shrugged, then winced. "You'll get a lot of arguing probably, Captain." the trainer rasped. "But he's the enemy, sure enough. Best to not leave 'em behind to point out where we went." 

Teion cocked his head to one side as if listening to something far off before nodding in agreement  , "I concur, it would be best if we avoid leaving signs of our passing, they may hinder us before long, especially if they are left close to the battlefield."

"It is agreed, then," Lord Walther summed.  "The seer and the healer will likely disagree.  Be ready."

With a grim determination, the nobleman turned and walked back towards the fallen soldier, slowly drawing his blade as he did so.  It brought him no joy to kill this way.  This was not an honorable thing, but an unfortunately necessary one.  Better that men should die on their feet, in battle.  War is hell, he thought.

Robert watched the officer turn and walk away with two of the other soldiers. He was confused. The officer certainly wasn't acting as he would expect. They spoke for a moment and turned back.  Robert looked between the three of them. "Sir...?" Then the officer drew his sword. These weren't his allies. Robert made a desperate grab for his sword, sticking up nearby, but there was no way he would reach it in time.

Watching Walther's deliberate steps and grim face with his blade drawn, Cali knew his intention.  She made no physical move to stop him, but rose her voice to a pitch that would be heard by all of them.  "If you slaughter that man and disrespect this healer, then my company and my knowledge will no longer be yours.  Our path will part here."

Cali's voice penetrated Harold's fatigue.  "No," he cried, his voice a harsh rasp.  With a lurch, he threw himself over the soldier he had recently healed, trying to shield the man's body with his own.

Walther was forced to stop lest he spear the pair of them.  With a muttered curse he turned his blade, and his eyes burned holes in the healer's body.

"Civilians," Beetle muttered tiredly, shaking his head. "Girly," he wheezed at the green-eyed woman. "So far, if I weighed the amount of knowledge you've given us in one hand, and the amount of troll shit on this battlefield in another, I'm thinkin we all know which hand'd be fuller." His eyes glittered in the darkness. "That's an enemy. You don't leave enemies behind." 

The seer strained to hear the troll handler, his voice rough as stone. "I'm not a murderer or a death bringer.  I can't stop you from slaughtering this man, but I can choose to part company with you."  Her tone was unemotional, but she averted her eyes from the scene.  Unwilling to watch the healer or the soldier get run through. 

"An empty threat considering the consequences of your company," Walther struck back.  "This man is a Vatril soldier who will either draw as much attention to us as possible or worse, follow us to our destination.  Every moment we tarry here we are in danger."

Robert's sword had been a little out of reach. The soldier, the enemy soldier, hadn't stabbed him yet and that was good, but now the healer had thrown himself on top of his chest and he couldn't move enough to reach his sword. He was wounded, pinned, and about to be killed. He choose the most reasonable option left, begging for his life. "Please my lord. I swear by all the gods, I won't tell a soul about you. I'll not follow you or even take up arms again. Please, just don't kill me."

"Then let him." Cali pleaded.  "In case you've forgotten, we're already dead. Strike him down when he's armed and a threat.  Not here and now like a coward."

Walther was through explaining himself.  The healer and seer could go hump themselves.

"Enough of this," he declared plainly.  He turned to the healer covering the soldier and pointed his weapon.

"Move, you unthinking bleeding-heart idiot, or I will run you both through and be on my way."  There was no doubt that this was the officer's intention, if not his outright preference.

Harold tensed himself at the words of the terrible man.  He knew the man would enjoy killing him and the poor wounded man below him.  All of his life he had heard horrible things about the Anaheer but he had never believed them until now.  That a man would murder a helpless person just because of where he was born seemed impossible, but this vicious person was obviously happy to do that.  Drawing what courage he could, trying to keep his voice from shaking, he spoke, not moving.  "This man is no threat to you.  He won't be going anywhere for a while and won't be fighting again for even longer.  Please just let him be."  He raised his body slightly and tensed it, waiting for the pain to come, praying that the sword would somehow get stuck in his body and spare the wounded man.

Stepping away from the group, Cali began looking for the best escape route.  It was only fair to assume that the sword happy Captain would be looking to gut her next.

Walther hesitated, leaned forward as if to strike, and then turned up his blade.

"You..." His fist shook in angry frustration as he struggled for the words.  "...ignorant fools!"

It took a moment but he quickly took hold of himself.  He sheathed his blade and turned back to the troll trainer and burned mage and signalled for them to continue on once more. The wounded soldier gave a relieved sigh and settled back against the tree.

"Stay here," he told the healer and harlot.  "Or go elsewhere, but our time together has reached an end.  I will no longer allow your lack of sense to endanger these men or me."

Cali allowed a smile to pass and inclined her head towards the Captain.  Her next words were spoken in a tone that would ensure that the mage could hear.  "Do keep a careful eye on that amulet of yours, Walther.  All of our deaths and futures are linked through that."

"Lunatic," Walther mumbled with a shake of his head at the devil woman.  "Help him," he ordered Beetle encouragingly, a nod indicating the blackened sorcerer.  "We've wasted enough time and should hasten as best as we can."

Beetle glanced at the burned horror, then looked down at his own broken arm and back up at the captain. "Help him how, exactly, Captain?" the trainer rasped, one grubby eyebrow raised questioningly. It was kind of funny really. Horrific and unreal, but funny.

Walther sighed but managed not to palm his face.  "Right.  Lean on me, then," he offered to the mage.

"My thanks." Teion said as he came over to the captain, placing his gloved hand upon the captain's shoulder. As he did so he lent in quickly, his back to the others "We will need to deal with that Vatril soon enough." he whispered, "I will help if I can." This was only audible to Walther. To everyone else it looked like the mage had stumbled. The mage then pushed back slightly, straightening to his full height as if it had never happened. Teion turned to the rest, "Are we moveing again?" he asked the rest, his tone almost cheery.

Harold remained on top of the soldier until he was sure the bloodthirsty trio had left.  He lifted his weight off the man, but continued to shield him with his body.  He didn't trust that their murderous desires had been put aside yet.

Walther, Teion, and Beetle walked off, leaving Cali, Harold and the soldier behind.