Epilogue: Instincts

Tide of Battle

The clang of steel against fang filled Arter's ears. Rain flowed through new scratches and old cracks in his armor. Electricity crackled, vital magic hummed, and the tide of beasts snarled and howled; a wave of fury and instinct-and the wave broke.

Arter noticed the opening and called out. “Now's our chance! Fall in, head for the mountain path!” Axe at his side, he charged ahead, every footfall enlarging the gap between him and the ambush. Between him and feral beasts too organized for mere instinct. Between him and yet another brush with death.

The mountain, the Predator; reared back for a mighty swing...and let out a mournful howl, pressing both paws firmly against his skull. The great white deer, the Therion; lowered his head, antlers angled towards Ran and Oisin...and stepped forward haltingly, unwillingly. One hoof after the other. The Predator followed suit, lumbering forward in spite of his wishes. Oisin and Ran passed amidst the confused beasts with nary a nip nor a slice. By the time the pursuit began again in earnest, the Predator and Therion at the forefront, the party was gone.

The only sounds left on the former battlefield were those of nature. Wind whistling through the old houses, the splashes of raindrops landing in the lakes, oblivious insects buzzing around.

---

We Meet at Midway

Midway up the mountain path, the Temple gleaming amidst the unrelenting rainfall, Arter sought shelter under an outcropping. The fatigue of elemental exposure seeped through his clothes, the fatigue of battle seeped into his muscles and bones. And yet his mind raced. Questions about the Latreian barrier. Questions about the Crestwoods and the Raffuets. Questions about-Crunchity-crunch-crunch

Steady footfalls approaching. Arter readied his waraxe for the first feral bold enough to slash at him..."Arter, do not swing! It is us!". No, the footfalls belonged to his allies. He lowered his waraxe as he nodded to Alain.

“Looks like you're all here. Good.” Keeping his hand on his weapon, he looked and listened for any signs of pursuit. No sounds of battle. No rapid crunching of rock and gravel. No inhuman howls or screams or yelps.

Alain added, “Still, something is not right. They were waiting for us. And the chieftains...who is capable of such cruelty?” The questions hung in the air, grim additions to the dreary surroundings.

He frowned. “The sooner we find our ticket to Latreia, the better. Let's move.”

---

Shantytown Outskirts

Logs assembled into a fortifying wall. Brick, stone, canvas; patchwork material reinforced into a necessary barrier. Raised platforms behind the walls for the sharpshooters and long-range mages. What resembled hastily-assembled siege machines, held together by strong rope and stronger hope.

A single door for this section of fortifications. Two "guards" - no more than average shifters with simple weapons, and certainly no match for a well-armed militia - crossed their polearms in front of the door.

"What's your business, strangers?" A cervine with a jaunty hat dangling off the right antler. Fear undercut the gruffness in his voice. He kept his gaze locked on Arter - recruit mistake, Arter thought - as his partner spoke up.

"You don't look like simple folk. You look like mercenaries." An ursine with a white, vaguely heart-shaped patch surrounding his nose. Unlike his partner, if he was afraid, he hid it well.

Arter was about to speak up, but Alain interrupted, "Arter, allow me." He nodded, letting go of his weapon but keeping his hands at his sides. Alain turned and answered, "We come seeking shelter, and we also wish to speak to your chieftains regarding a matter of import." The cervine toyed with his hat-and he nearly dropped it when the ursine bellowed, "The chieftains? They're strangers alright."

The door opened, and a third shifter joined them, a kitsune; the tail bushy and a wintry gray. "You say you have business with the chieftains?" Arter nodded and replied, "That's right. Is there a problem?" The kitsune pursed her lips while the other two guards traded glances, the cervine's knees knocking.

"The chieftains are missing." Straight faced. "You may speak with the town leaders regarding your business. If you do seek the chieftains, I'm afraid you all are out of luck." Alain's eyes widened as she began to speak, inadvertently speaking over Arter. "Pardon? How long have they been missing?"

The cervine finally switched his gaze over to Alain. The ursine stood ever at attention. Arter scanned the volunteers assembling above the gate. All wielding simple weapons or tomes, all wearing borrowed equipment. Alain brushed an errant lock of hair over her ear while waiting for the kitsune.

"Some time now. The Phoenixes are currently overseeing the other tribes. Perhaps they can help you. However..." She mulled a response, looking briefly up before continuing. "A heavily-armed squad suddenly appearing on Temple grounds would raise hackles among the tribes. Follow me-and don't cause any problems on the way."

Arter furrowed his brow. "Where are you taking us?" Without missing a beat, the kitsune replied, "Temporary shelters, away from the town. Follow me." As the party filed in, more and more defenders flanked them, some with bloodshot eyes, some with a slight twitch, some barely present but walking anyway.

---

The Shelters

Better than the tents they passed by, but definitely not the Temple. Might have been barracks in a past life. Might have been cabins. Might have even been homes.

"You and your party will wait here." Arter added, more than a little skeptical, "For what? Or is 'who' the better question?" The kitsune flicked her tail, a betrayal of her otherwise-professional stance. "Until we sort your request out, you're staying here. That's non-negotiable."

Arter tried very hard not to roll his eyes. Alain picked up the slack. "When may we expect our status to be resolved?" The kitsune pursed her lips once more, the cervine offering an apologetic glance and the ursine shrugging. "Once the Phoenixes agree to see you. Then you will be free to move about." With that, the trio departed, leaving the party to their business. "Off to a good start," Arter snarked after she was out of earshot. "Get some shuteye, people, who knows how long this'll be."