//------------------------------// // Chapter X - To Wisp Somepony Away Part I // Story: Oh Dearest Father of Mine... // by ExaltedFiction //------------------------------// Under the cover of night, a pair of Griffon mercs patrolled the calm empty skies. Their large shadows mimicking their movements under the moonlight. Their swords remained in the sheaths to their sides, crumbs falling to the earth as they both consumed pieces of plain stale bread whilst patrolling their self assigned routes. It had been hours since they had left the camp. Hours since they were robbed of the chance to revel in the stew the cook whipped up for them. And although it was most likely cold at this point in time, at least it wasn’t the same maggoty bread they’ve eaten for three stinking days. But even as they consumed their tasteless rations, their stomachs growled to a point where it would have alerted everygriff to their location. Grimacing at such pain, a merc placed a talon on the plating that covered his stomach, turning to face his partner with hopes in mind, “Hey Flygon,” he called out, getting his partners attention, “Can we turn back now? I’m starving.” “So am I, Errol. But we need to wait until our relief arrives. Only then we can return to camp and put some real food in our bellies.” “Come on, there’s nothing out here. It’s just us Griffons and the merchandise. That’s it!” “That’s what Dawnclaw’s merc group said before they were ambushed. Remember when we had to ship them back home to their mothers in a box?” “That’s because they let their guard down in the Badlands,” Errol countered, “There ain’t nothing out here more dangerous than us.” Flygon sighed, already annoyed by his partner's voice, “Fine,” he conceded, cutting his losses, “Let’s go. But I swear if we get punished because of your whining-“ “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take the heat if it means we get a real meal, and not eat this garbage…” Errol said, dropping the remainder of his half eaten rations to the forest below, “Now let’s go, I’m starving!” Disappointed in his partners lack of discipline, Flygon reluctantly began to bank to left with Errol following not far behind. But even if they had cut their patrols short, the pair remained vigilant; scanning the forest below for any signs of activity. Holding the knowledge that everygriff had returned to the camp, meant that any signs of suspicious movements below most likely meant trouble. And after only a mere few minutes of flying, the pair eventually caught sight of an orange glow that constantly surged and died down in the distance. There was no doubt that the mercs were relieved once they were close to getting back to the safety of the group, but even then, Flygon could only raise an eyebrow, his talon slowly reaching for the sword to his side. “Damn, I can’t wait to eat some grub!” Errol eagerly said, oblivious to his partner’s actions. “Something’s not right…” Flygon claimed, moonlight reflecting off his blade as he sluggishly withdrew it from its sheath, “There should be somegriff watching over the merchandise…” “Huh?” Was all Errol could utter out, before he squinted his eyes, getting a clear view of the cage… and surely enough, nogriff guarding it. “We need to get down there! The camp could’ve been attacked while we were gone!” “Oh relax Flygon. I’m sure whoever is supposed to be on watch needed to take a leak or something. You’re so paranoid…” Feeling Errol lightly elbow him to the side, he shot the birdbrain beside him a glare, “That paranoia is what keeps us alive Errol!” “I’m also sure that’s what drove her away as well…” Errol muttered under his breath, feather’s standing at attention upon feeling a sharp talon grip the layers on the back of his neck. “What was that!?” Flygon shouted, outraged by such a comment. “Nothing!” Errol lied, feigning innocence as he slapped away his partner’s talon, “Come on, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong going on down there,” Assumed the merc, immediately dashing straight towards the camp with an infuriated Flygon not far behind. One could even imagine his feathers beginning to smoke… leaving a trail of black as he rushed to the camp, sword drawn and ready for action. A cloud made from dirt took shape low on the ground as the pair landed heavily on the dirt road, the pair becoming sandwiched as they dropped in between the encampment and the covered cage. Laying their eyes upon the rest of the group, a smirk formed on one griffon while a scowl formed on the other as they looked to each merc that had succumbed to sleep. The slumbering mercs before them all appeared to be alive, noticeable by their heaving unarmoured chests. “See? There’s nothing wrong here…” Errol spoke softly, dusting himself off and making his way towards the pot beside the campfire. “That doesn’t explain the absence of whoever is supposed to be on watch.” Flygon pointed out, glancing to the cage behind him. “He probably went for a leak or something. Come on, let’s eat before we swap out with some other griffs.” “I better check on the merchandise first,” Flygon said, turning his armoured form around, sheathing his sword, “Just to make sure she hasn’t done anything stupid.” “Suit yourself…” Errol shrugged, not waiting a moment more to pour out a bowl of somewhat cold stew for himself and downing it in mere seconds. With the roll of the eyes, Flygon checked up on the merchandise; peering into the dark cage only to find a sleeping Equine figure lying flat on her side. Oddly enough, she seemed to be sleeping peacefully despite her current circumstances. Her breathing was calm, her ears flicked about every now and then while her wings and hooves were held close to her body. Doesn’t look like she has tried anything… for now at least… Eyes drawn to the entrance of her side of the cage, he bent close to the ground, eyeing a half a piece of bread that lacked any sort of bite marks. Why didn’t she- Suddenly, the sounds of bushes being disturbed pulled Flygon out of his thoughts. He drew his sword and readid himself for possible combat, facing the rustling bushes to his left, “Who’s there!?” He shouted into the dark, seeing a dark figure beginning to emerge, but with two of its limbs raised. “It's just me! The new griff!” The figure shouted back, and sure enough, his undoubtedly young voice and defining appearance as he stepped out from the bushes would only confirm his claims. Flygon breathed a sigh of relief, returning the sword to its respective place before approaching the griffon. A few harsh, scolding words in mind no doubt. “Damnit Kid, I was this close to killing you,” The older griffon said, pushing the Kid lightly before continuing “Why weren’t you at your post?” “Uh, I-I-“ “You can’t just leave the merchandise and the others unguarded. What if one of our rivals attacked or a wild animal or monster got the drop on them?” “B-but that’s the thing sir. I thought I heard something back there!” The Kid said, pointing with his sharp talons in the direction he just came from. Flygon raised an eyebrow at the Kid, crossing his forelegs across his chest, “What did you hear?” Hearing the question of his superior, the beating of his heart subtly increased, “I-I don’t know, I mean I do, or at least I think I do-“ The next thing his mind registered was a smack across his cheek with a few words spoken with a slightly raised voice not far behind, “Snap out of it!” Flygon shouted, gaining his silence, “Now tell me… What. Did. You. Hear?” The Kid rubbed his cheek, giving it a series of slow strokes in an up and down manner, only being able to look at the imposing griffon after a few seconds of silence. “I… I thought I heard… children, sir.” “Children?” Flygon repeated, making sure he heard what was said correctly. “Yes sir. I heard… laughing… a-and they were talking and shouting as well… It sounded like they were… playing with each other or something… s-sir.” “Children… playing and laughing in the middle of nowhere?” Flygon said skeptically, doubting the Kids' story. “I-I know how it sounds sir, and I asked myself the same question and remained put. But then after a while… I heard it again, but it sounded much closer… so I checked it out.” “And what did you see?” “Well… I couldn’t see much, sir. It was too dark.” It was at this point in time that Flygon had his mind set to give an earful or two to the Kid, but just as he opened his beak to scold him with words foreign and native, a number of armoured steps announced their presence behind him. Flygon turned around to confront the beings behind while the Kids leaned to the side and swallowed what little bravery he had when he set his sights on the group in front of him. There, standing tall in their armour, were a number of Griffons along with Errol who was wiping his wet beak. Probably half of the group if he had to take a guess. “What’s going on here? Why are you causing such a commotion?” The lead Griffon of the group questioned, holding the rank of sergeant no less. He carried the look of a much more mature griffon, a minor set of wrinkles on his face as well as some cross feet to the sides of his eyes. His voice even sounded much older, very gruff and raspy. It didn’t take long for Flygon to notice each of their eyes; bloodshot read with some minor bags under them as well. Some of the mercs even yawned, stretching out their wings before letting them drop to the dirt below. “Well?” Urged the sergeant, still awaiting an answer. “I was scolding the Kid because he wasn’t at his post when Errol and I returned from patrol.” The sergeant yawned in their faces, but at least he was decent enough to cover his beak while doing so, “Why weren’t you at your post?” He questioned, attention directed to the Kid, queuing Flygon to step to the side. “I-I heard the sounds of children playing, sir. Laughing, talking and shouting as they did so.” “Children? In the middle of nowhere?” The sergeant skeptically questioned, providing the same reaction Flygon had just mere moments ago. “I know how it sounds sir. But when I heard it the first time, I thought I was just hearing things…” The Kid paused, an expression of anxiety slowly taking shape on his face, “But… then I heard them again… though they sounded much closer the second time around…” “And that’s when I assume you left your post to check it out?” The sergeant guessed, receiving a nod in return, allowing himself to continue, “And did you see anything?” The Kid kept silent for a moment, shaking his head before passing on the same answer he provided to Flygon. Naturally, what came next wasn’t a surprise at all. Another round of tired sighs and moans was uttered from the group, the only exception being the sergeant, who only looked to be displeased about the answer he was given. “How do we know for sure that the Kid isn’t just trying to scare us with his stories again?” A merc pointed out from the group, receiving a number of agreeable murmurs from the others. “Alright that’s enough!” The sergeant ordered with a slightly raised voice, “Listen, we have quite the march ahead of us tomorrow. So how about we get some well earned sleep befo-”--The sergeant quickly silenced himself, looking straight ahead as he began taking steps forward past the Kid--”H-hey! Hey!!!” Bewildered, evergriff looked at each other, shrugging as they watched their superior call out to nothing. “Where are you going?!” He continued, making his way towards the woods. It was then somegriff finally snapped out of their trance and rushed to the sergeant’s side without a second thought, putting pressure as he placed his talons on his breastplate, forcing the sergeant to stop, “Is everything alright, sir?” Flygon asked, making the sergeant look his way for a brief moment before diverting his puzzled gaze to the forest ahead. “...There… was a griffon… out there…” Confusion befell the mercs; most even giving their sergeant a questionable look. “S-sir…” Flygon hesitantly spoke, scanning the area for a brief moment before facing his Sergeant, “There’s nogriff here but us.” The eyes of the sergeant widened at his subordinates words, “No… I saw somegriff there! Right there!”—his gaze turned to the others behind him—“You all saw her right?! She looked wounded. She was painfully limping into the woods behind me!” The agitated tone of the sergeant's voice made each merc under his command to subconsciously take a step back, even going as far as to make some of them to grip their weapons tighter. Noticing these, the sergeant could practically hear each of them conjuring up their own judgments of him. ‘What is he talking about?’ ‘How’d he make it past selection…’ ‘Is he starting to lose it?’ ‘I still can’t believe some crazy old geezer is still within our ranks’ Blood beginning to boil, his frustration grew when they all looked at him as if he was crazy and he was just seeing things. “Damn all of you!” He bellowed with a red neck, drawing his sword, which startled the mercs, who readied theirs in return, “I’ll prove to you I saw somegriff limping into the forest, and I’ll drag her back here if I have too!” Flygon moved to protest the sergeant's actions, making an attempt to calm him down. But before he was able to place his talons on his shoulders, his superior took to the skies, flying head first into the confines of the nerve wrecking woods. “Sarge!” Flygon shouted, immediately making chase, his comrades-in-arms hesitantly following suit. “I’ve really got a bad feeling about this…” A merc said aloud, receiving a push from another of his kind. “Shut it Manedonza! Now get moving!” “Alright relax Beakstenti, I’m going, sheesh…” The Sergeant dodged trees left and right, avoiding their branches as best he could in such abyss level darkness thanks to the trees that stood taller and were thicker than the adult sized dragons themselves. There wasn’t any sort of trail the griffon he claimed he saw left behind. Not even a trail of blood or even the scent of it despite the griffon apparently being… wounded. Despite this crucial piece to track somegriff down, his search patterns didn’t appear random as one would expect, but more like he knew where to go, as if his gut was advising, no, demanding him to go in this specific direction. “Sarge!” Flygon called out, getting a brief glance concentrating on his flying, “Are you sure you saw somegriff?” “This is the only way she could’ve gone!” He shouted back, putting more power in wings before taking off again, leaving Flygon and some nearby mercs behind. “That wasn’t what I asked…” Flygon remarked before making an attempt to match the Sergeants speed, but somehow not being able to keep up with the older griffon. And if Flygon couldn’t, then it was unlikely that the rest would too. After dashing through the air for a minute or two, the gut instinct of the Sergeant has seemingly paid off; luring him to a tranquil field of white flowers with yellow centres that was devoid of bulky trees that would’ve been an eyesore for such a place like this. A mix of white, yellow and green swayed in the presence of the wind, dancing to the music of nature itself whilst he stood on the sidelines as if he were that one individual who lacked a dance partner in a royal ball. Starstruck at such beauty, even making a hardened, ageing warrior such as himself freeze in their presence. Eyes lidded closed as a rich, sweet scent invaded his nares’, slowly infecting his body with a sense of comfort and joy; emotions and feelings a griffon like him and others usually lacked in their chosen… ‘professions’. But whether it was fortune or misfortune, he would not experience this place alone for long. For during that small fraction of time of which he froze, his seemingly forgotten team was given the opportunity to catch up. Panting, the flapping of wings and the clanking of plate armour was heard as they arrived, stealing as much air as possible before gasping as they looked to the sight they fell upon. Some mercs were not so strong as to resist the musk of the field of white, getting a full set of shaky legs before collapsing on their knees, their actions describing everything better than words alone ever could. Whilst everygriff was silenced in the presence of the heavenly field, the sergeant took his first steps forward, taking each step with grace and care. “Oh Prithvi… Was it you who has led us here? He respectfully inquired, knowing full well that it was unlikely that he would go unanswered, “Are we truly worthy?” The others watched as they remained, only a single thought constantly replaying in their mind as they watched their Sergeant make his way towards the centre of the field. Are we truly worthy? Some of them managed to find their lost strength, regaining their composure before standing up and slowly following their Sergeants lead. Talons and paws dragged themselves across the ground as they did so. As figures of brown, black or even white began their encroachment to the centre of the field, an ominous purple fog-like miasma slowly manifested on the borders of the clearing, just short of touching the field of white and yellow. The fog was so thick and dense, the trees it surrounded faded from sight. At first becoming an obscured figure that towered above them, before becoming nothing but a distant memory as the fog swallowed them whole. But despite this… irregular event, the pace of their hearts and breathing only increased subtly, one would dare say they didn’t even increase at all, though there was… one exception to this, and the beating of his tender and young heart could be felt and heard throughout the land and beyond. The sounds of clattering of the Kids armour echoed throughout as he began trembling. The purple miasma placed an immense sense of dread upon him that was already proving that it was too much to bear, even with the living presence of his nearby comrades and Sergeant. His eyes darted all over the place, the hold of his crossbow was becoming unsteady, and he subconsciously began shifting closer to his comrades, of whom were oblivious to his reactions. Oh heavenly Dyauspitah and Prithvi… Our Divine Father and Mother… May my body be strong and my will unbreakable… but should the worst come to pass… have mercy on my soul as I arrive at the gates of Vikuntham… As the Sergeant drew closer and closer, his gaze eventually locked onto an unmoving object that stood out amongst the field. Arching a brow at such a vaguely familiar shaped figure, he quickened his pace, only slowing down once he stood before the object. The object turned out to be a sword that was impaled into the earth at an angle. Its body was seemingly rusted beyond repair, bearing different shades of brown of its body with not a single part of it being spared for such a cruel fate for equipment. Examining it, and tracing his eyes all over, he noticed several markings and symbols that he couldn’t recognise with the exception of one that was vaguely familiar or at the very least it looked similar to something else he had seen before… Squinting his eyes as he stared at the flat circular pommel of the ancient sword, the symbol looked to be the head of a bull with a pair of abnormally large horns that pointed towards the night sky, but what caught his attention was the letters ‘T’ and ‘K’ of the Equine language that were forged into one form behind the head. And hanging from the crossguard was a rusted circular pendant that was slowly swaying in the wind that matched the flowers of the field. Retrieving it from its stand before sitting on his rear, he examined it much like the sword before it. On one side of its body was a pair of crossed wings while on the other was a paragraph of text that was written in a style that was unrecognisable to him and perhaps the whole world. Its font looked elegant, decorative and ancient. A style that has fallen to the sands of time perhaps? Shaking his head, the sounds of somegriff’s approach made themselves known, it came closer and closer and soon enough a shadow loomed over him. “Sir?” Came the voice of Flygon, who looked over his Sergeants shoulders, noticing the rusted pendant in his talons, “Are you able to read that, sir?” “No,” The Sergeant sighed, “It is the style that interests me. I have seen many in my time but… nothing quite like… this.” “It looks ancient.” “That it does. Perhaps a long lost forgotten warrior was buried he-” However, the Sergeant was unable to finish his sentence the moment a series of ominous sounds made themselves known to the griffons. Varying sounds of whistling, humming and the songs sung by whales rang out from all sides. Immediately provoking a reaction, swords were drawn, spears were gripped tightly and crossbows were loaded. Each member clung to each other as if they were attracted by a magnet, forming a circle around the sergeant. “Have no fear Mercenaries of the Bastard Sons!” Declared the sergeant, devoid of fear, “Our most divine Dyauspitah and Prithvi await us in Vikuntham! Muster your courage and hold no doubt, for Prithvi has led us to such a battleground of beauty and awe. Do not disappoint or shame them in our final moments, lest you will be among the forgotten faceless masses.” Though it was quite unfortunate that the rest did not share his sentiments; Some maintained a tight grip on their weapons, eager for a fight. While the vast majority of them remained silent, not eager nor afraid, but cautious of the situation. But out of all of them, the Kid bore emotions and reactions that stood out amongst the rest. He maintained a weak shaky hold of the crossbow in his talons, his form beginning to tremble and his teeth beginning to chatter as he scanned the borders of the clearing. The foreboding miasma that once held back at the edge of this chosen battleground began to make its approach, quickly making ground as the sounds of howling resonated throughout the area. And soon enough, as the mercs stood their ground, an unforgiving wall of purple enveloped them, enshrouding and swallowing them up whole. Their vigilant sight was hindered beyond all, for even the celestial moon and everything nature had to offer was obscured from sight. Being enshrouded in darkness, it wasn’t long before their thoughts were spoken aloud, unable to bear the quiet any longer. “I don't like this…” “Shh!” “Something’s watching us…” Another wave of howling rang out, conjuring forth another set of comments. “That was wolves right? That had to have been wolves…” “When was the last time you’ve heard of wolves attacking under the cloak of this… fog or… whatever this is.” “Maybe it’s some sort of Equine magic.” “...I would not be so sure…” “Easy lads… “ Came the supporting words of the Sergeant, “Know no fear. Remember, we endure pain now and we shall experience our eternal reward in the afterlife. For They will embrace us with open arms in exchange for our courage.” But even with the inspiring words of their Sergeant, the Kid’s fear lingered amongst them. Hearting beating at an abnormal pace while he pointed his loaded crossbow at various parts of the thick fog. Though it was unlikely he would be able to hit anything with an obscured sightline and a pair of unsteady talons. Not knowing what else to do, he kept whispering the prayers he had said before, constantly repeating them again and again. “Oh heavenly Dyauspitah and Prithvi… Our Divine Father and Mother… May my body be strong and my will unbreakable… but should the worst come to pass… have mercy on my soul as I arrive at the gates of Vikunt-” Suddenly, the Kid ceased his prayers, eyes widening to the size of saucers as he caught sight of a floating set of glowing eyes staring at him with an odd three pronged fork-like symbol between them. Its figure was hidden under the blanket of fog wrapped around them, but judging from the elevation of the eyes, it was far taller than him, maybe even surpassing the Captain himself. The thing before him began snarling and growling in their presence, most likely responding to the Kids sudden realisation of its presence. Regaining his voice, the Kid pointed his crossbow at the creature but as the floating eyes elevated ever higher, he could only weakly whisper a few words as his crossbow was lowered to his side, “By the Divines…” Gasping awake, the Captain shot up from his slumber, heart beating faster with his breath trying to match its pace. He awoke with his vision obscured from all, the only things he was able to recognise was the light of the fire that still burned brightly and the cage that remained in the middle of the road. He brought a talon to his head as he felt an intense pounding of his head, looking to the parts of the sky that was obscured by the leaves and the makeshift shelter that he erected solely for himself. For obvious reasons of course. A number of thoughts rushed through his mind as his sight began to return to him, allowing all to be defined once more. What… was that? Was that just a dream? Or was it real? The sheer thought of his own warriors being in trouble placed a sense of guilt upon him, and not wanting to wait any longer to see if it was true or not, he rose up from his shelter before making his way to the light of the fire, where most of his warriors succumbed to sleep. But as he arrived, his eyes widened and his beak was left ajar upon seeing that practically half of his unit was absent. The lack of griffons, weapons and armour under/near the shelter being the first things he noticed. Left speechless, his brows narrowed and his jaw clenched. He ran through the small encampment - not caring about the slumbering remnants of his unit - and arrived at the front of the cage. His arrival had seemingly awakened its occupant, who yawned and smacked her lips before clenching her necklace tighter. “DAMNIT!” He bellowed deep from his diaphragm, forming a fist with his talon before sending its flat surface to the bars of the cage. As one would expect, his actions forced the mare to fully awaken from her sleep, for she jumped up from the bars below, her expressions and reactions clearly showing that she was in shock. Not caring about her, he sprinted back to the camp with the purpose of awakening the remnants of his unit that were fortunately beginning to awaken from his outburst alone. “WAKE UP WAKE UP! ALL OF YOU! WAKE UP!” The Captain barked, some right into the griffon's ears who carried the same reaction as the thestral. As he expected from them, each of them rose from their slumber, talons instinctively reaching for their nearby weapons. “Armour up! Our comrades are in trouble and we’re gonna drag their rears back here!” Not even requiring much convincing from their Captain, each of them began to equip their armour, assisting each other whenever possible. But as they did this, the Captain looked to Thistle and Pontus, his mind already set on giving them a set of different orders. “Thistle! Pontus!” He harshly called out, compelling them to stop and stand at attention, “You two slackers are to remain here and watch over the merchandise and our fallen comrade while the rest of us will go after our missing warriors. Am I clear?” “Yes sir!” They declared in unison, talon going across their own chest before they continued to armour up. Whilst everygriff equipped themselves in suits of metal plate, the Captain rushed back to his own shelter to do the same, calling those who were done with their own to assist him. Now ready for any sort of threat they could possibly face, and with the knowledge of already relaying his orders to each of his subordinates, he took to the skies before following a specific path that wasn’t random in any way, shape or form. It did not take them long to arrive at their intended destination, only a few minutes at the best. But as they landed at the edge of the clearing, each of them could only gasp as to the sight their own eyes bore witness to. A sea of crimson flowers, to which even their stems carried matching colours. There were no signs of purple miasma nor his mercs, but the field of red flowers compared to the one in his mind could only make him hope that they were ok, though he did not have much faith that they would be, for the sea of red was clearly a dreaded sign of some sort and the profession they’d taken up did not leave much hope for each other in general. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, the Captain led the charge, his mere presence alone already destroying the place and its sanctity. His subordinates followed suit, charging alongside him, weapons already drawn and eyes kept to the skies and to the borders surrounding them. And as he encroached to the centre of the field with his subordinates, he stumbled upon several objects that left his blood boiling. Charms and amulets littered the place, ones possessing their mortal griffon forms, its users nowhere in sight. Sitting on his rear, he picked up a sword that laid before him. The griffon inhaled deeply as a talon went across its bloodied body. His individual digits feel the many decorative engravings all over. “Spread out and search the place,” He ordered somberly, gripping the sword tightly, “Report your findings… and if you see the bodies of our comrades, give them your respects before bringing them to me.” A look of fear formed on each of their faces the moment they realised what the Captain was doing, blood beginning to pour from his talon as he squeezed the blade, crimson drops falling to the flowers and blending in with them in an instant, leaving everygriff none the wiser. As he held the sword in his talons, he experienced the sensation of an internal pain in his heart; both emotional and physical. Though in secret, there was some form of relief lingering within him, for even if the worst had claimed them and they were sent to the gates of Vikuntham, he very well knew that he didn’t have to look them in the eyes. Regaining his composure, not wanting his warriors bear witness to the state he was in. He got off his rear and embedded the bloodied sword he possessed into the ground. But just moments after he did so, a voice was shouted from the border. “Stay back! Stay back!” It shouted, sounding desperate, almost pleading in nature. The Captain’s eyes shifted over to the area, to where he saw some of his warriors gathering in one part of the treeline. A sense of urgency then claimed the Captain, convincing his body that he needed to get there as soon as possible. And so he did, conjuring up a gust of wind as he dashed through the field, taking care to avoid the scattered weapons on the floor. And the moment he arrived on the scene, his subordinates began to carve a path for him, making way and letting him go ahead. And there, huddling close to a tree that was well within the confines of the forest was the Kid with his loaded crossbow pointed directly at them. Despite the Kid possessing a shaky hold of a lethal weapon towards him, the Captain took this time to examine him from a distance. Tears and snot ran down his face, eyes constricted and bloodshot, with parts of his armour and exposed body covered in dried blood. There was no doubt that he was enveloped by the very concept of fear and anxiety. The very existence or mention of any other of its opposites being nothing but mere myth and legend. “S-stay back! Stay back! You’re not turning me into one of those things!” he yelled defiantly, using his other talon to help himself maintain a steady hold of his weapon, “I’ll shoot your brains out! Get away from me!” The Captain remained silent as the Kid let out a distressed cry, taking in everything he had to say. Turning? What is he talking about… The imposing griffon then took a step forward, immediately provoking an unthought action from the Kid, who jabbed his weapons towards them before pulling the trigger, sending forth a bolt that struck the Captain centre mass. Fortunately for them both, the bolt did little more than bounce off and leave a dent on the thick metal the Captain wore. But the moment the bolt landed on the floor, the large griffon charged at the Kid, one talon being planted on the Kid's chest while the other confiscating the crossbow with ease. After being easily disarmed, the Kid tried to get up and reach for his weapon, to which the Captain responded by pressing all his weight on him, effortlessly pushing him back down. Two other mercs began their approach, immediately sending the Kid into a state of panic, desperately bashing and attempting to push off the Captain’s large talon. “D-don’t touch me you freaks! I won’t be like you! I’ll die first! Find your own hiding place the monsters are everywhere!” “What. Happened?” The Captain interrogated, starting to put the squeeze on the Kids armour, leaving scratch marks for the world to see. The sounds of his talons clawing at the metal forced everygriffon but the Captain to grimace at such an ear wrecking sound. The Kid wrapped his talons around the one on his chest, giving it an iron grip as if he was trying to strangle the life out of it, “Play dead! That’s what I did… played dead. It took the live ones… Oh, Dyauspitah, I can still hear them!” “What. Took. Them?” Their eyes locked onto each other, allowing the Captain to see the immense fear that had claimed him. A fear so strong that death was the only path to take rather than to face whatever he saw again. The Kid ceased his squeeze, instead placing his talons over his eyes as the resistance seemingly became nonexistent, “...Monsters…” He whispered, sobbing not long after. One could only imagine what monstrosity he faced to be broken down to nothing. Something that griffons without a doubt knew they were not. As the sounds of his crying echoed, the Captain looked to the mercs beside him, giving them an order to stand him up. But the Kid was not too keen of his kind performing such actions, thus he once again resisted in the form of letting out panicked shouts alongside a demand and some wild punches. “Ahhhhhh! Ahhhhaaahhh! Just leave me alooooone!" Shaking his head, feeling that the Kid was a lost cause, he reluctantly gave into his demands, lifting his talon off his chest and backing away slowly to which his mercs hesitantly followed suit. But as the Kid felt the immense weight leave his chest, he slowly reached out for his weapon that remained in the Captain grasp. Shaking his head once more, he returned the unloaded weapon. Upon the weapon’s return to the Kids accepting talons, he then fell to his side, cuddling his weapon tightly as he curled up into a fetal position, whimpering before continuing his incoherent rambling for all to hear. “S-Sarge? M-Manedonza? B-Beaksenti?...All gone...the things took them, away, away, away, they went away…” He sob sobbed into his weapon for a moment before continuing, “I-it w-wants her, it wants her, it wants her… but w-when we refused…” As he continued to cry into his weapon, he shouted out several claims that sent a wave of uneasiness among the mercs - with the exception of the Captain - that is if they weren’t uneasy enough already. “They're gone! Get it? Gone! They won't get me! Oh Dyauspitah... Oh Prithvi… I don't want to be like them, please, please no, please nooo..." The mercs beside the Captain looked to their superior officer, awaiting orders as they had no clue as to what to do. Their eyes followed his talon as it formed into a ball, clenching tightly before uttering a few words. “I’m sorry Kid…” The Captain whispered with a hint of regret, making his mercs questions what his next set of actions was going to be. Though they would soon witness them in action, for just moments after he apologised, he sprung himself close to the Kids head, quickly throwing back his talon before sending it forth to make hard contact with the Kids head that of which struck the dirt, instantly knocking him out and into outright silence. Tongue held back by shock and fear, these frozen mercs could only watch as their broken comrade was robbed of his consciousness. Together, they pondered about what just happened and what could have possibly led to such nerve wracking events. “‘It wanted her,’” A merc repeated, mind processing the Kids words as he glanced at the Captain, “But… the only female we have is-“ Then came a moment of clarity, like a light shining through darkness to reveal the answer they sought out for. “THE MERCHANDISE!” The Captain yelled, irises burning with fire and anger. Shooting a fiery look to the mercs beside him, he bestowed upon them an order to drag the Kid back to the camp whilst he and the others try to get back as soon as possible with the purpose of securing the merchandise. The moment they brought their balled up talons to their chest, the Captain rushed back to the clearing before projecting a primal eagle-like scream into the surrounding area - that instinctively drew in every single griffon in the immediate vicinity with war faces and weapons drawn - before leading the way back to their place of rest, allowing no time for any sort of questions to be answered, leaving them uninformed of the rapidly developing situation.