[IC] Swords Beneath the Starlight

Mazelina, Logan, Airitech:

You begin your search. It is, unfortunately, rather gruesome, morbid, and ill-fated. You find nothing but corpses, charred and butchered in the wake of the attack. Something catches your attention, though: these individuals are all armed, and there's far less of them than the size of the village would suggest. You can be reasonably sure that this is the village's militia - people like you. They're poorly armed, all wielding some sort of polearm (and many of them using pitchforks in place of a proper lance) - but they fought, and they died, and in the end, you deduce, they won. They seem to have made room for the other villagers to escape.

As you re-emerge from your search, you find a woman weeping next to the body of your fallen captain.



"Oh, Brenden, you daft old fool..."

Baylee, Milo, Casey, Sunny:

Lien nods to Milo.

"I see... a great loss, then. I'm terribly sorry. I-- I lost my father when Achaim fell. I know no words can bring you easy peace. I can only express my sympathy and offer what little I have."

When she mentions her father, Carlyle shoots her a scowl. It doesn't deter her. She turns to Baylee.



"That's... a way of putting it. Perhaps rather foolishly, I had hoped that Renault would be able to push back against the forces of these Progress cultists. If even her knights have fallen... perhaps there is no hope left for Ilyun. But... I cannot believe that. I will not give up so long as there is breath still left in my lungs. I only hope it is not all for naught. May Saedore have mercy on her people..."

Carlyle's scowl deepens. When Sunny steps in along with Casey and announces she's Revotrian, he seems compelled to step in.



"Hold. You're wandering around with a Revotrian in tow? And how do you know she's not one of them? Another thrall to Progress, another zealot wishing to see us all enslaved to her ideals? Were it not for my oaths, I would strike her down where she--"



"Hold your tongue, Carlyle."



"I will hold my tongue when it does not interfere with my orders, Lien." He spits the name out with no small degree of venom. He turns his glare to Casey. "You say you're a son of Achaim - how can any of her children bear to stand beside one of the bastards who tore her to pieces? Is she not a worshiper of their false god? Whispering prayers to Avern and calling him by a different name? How can you not feel every blasphemy she utters echoing through your bones? How can you not see the blood of your city dripping from her fingers?!"