Vagabond 801: Enemy of my Enemy

Even here, miles from the Fort, desperation was a cloying scent on the air, permeating the heavy tension hanging over the group. It lingered in their poor road rations, the threadbare nature of their equipment, the bright light of hunger in their eyes. It sank beneath the skin, parching the throat, clinging to ribcages as coats thinned despite the nights beginning to grow longer, the first hint of winter cooling the air.

He had been a Vindicator long enough that he had gotten used to scraping by, but this was beyond that. He could feel the Fort teetering on the razor's edge, with the winds of winter looming in the distance ready to blow them into the pit of ruin. They still had time, but every day brought them closer, lowered their supplies just that much further.

He breathed out into the early morning air, steam curling away from him as he gazed silently ahead over the endless expanse of rolling green hills, dipping and falling away from him in shades of emerald and jade. Mist lay at their bottoms like distant blankets of white, obscuring their bases and adding an ethereal quality to the view, as if they were standing above the clouds. The clear sky above was still new and young, not strong enough to burn the fog away yet. Dark shrubs scattered over the hillsides, peppering the pale green, and the gnarled, twisted shapes of oak trees stood like ghosts in the mist. The dark, writhing forms stood around them, twisting in on themselves, branches a tangle stretching far above their heads, green leaves framing the dark wood.
He’d been here before. He knew the area surrounding Opulence- he’d been here enough times in his youth, following his parents. If he was right, he’d say they were still a few days out, but it wouldn’t be long before they began to see vineyards. The road wasn’t yet visible, but it could have been easily hidden in the hills and mist ahead. Nothing moved but the grass rippling in the wind.

He breathed in, tasting the lavish green scents of his childhood, the warm scent of wood, remembering times of excess long gone, and flattened his ears. They had a job to do, and lingering in memories wouldn’t feed any hungry bellies.

“All clear,” He said lowly, and stepped forward into knee deep grass, ears swiveling as he listened to the wind’s song, strumming through the blades of grass waving merrily around them.

Post 1 | 415 words

"As well as can be expected." Amadeus answered, turning her teal eyes towards Ming. She kept her voice low, and didn't know if it was the fear of being somehow caught or the fear of her fellows that kept her voice nary above a whisper. No - it wasn't right to call them that, for they weren't truly her fellows, were they? She had agreed to join these murderers who had demolished a city block once, and would certainly do it again if given half a chance - but they didn't trust her, and she didn't trust them. But survival crafted necessity that in turn crafted strange bedfellows. She would endure.

Her eyes slid over to Rosie, taking note of another dear friend who deserved better yet could never seem to grasp it. Such trouble she had led them into. A foreign nation, a terrorist organization, a cell. Had she known what her escape would wrought, Amadeus would have never allowed them to come along.

The soft hiss of a snake caught her attention, drawing her gaze to Illidis. Quiet and sure-footed, as tall as a mountain. She could remember watching him in the Crucible, spilling blood and gore in the sand. Always through the gaps in her feathers, of course, for Amadeus had never been able to watch a pit fight without covering her face. She supposed that was pathetic.

She thought perhaps she should speak to him. He had risked his throat for her only a scant few months ago, but there had been little opportunity to speak, to get to know, to - to thank him. Properly, not just in a hushed whisper. He deserved better.

Amadeus was lost in that thought when Tomas drew close, and just scarcely managed to bite down on a squawk before it loosed from her lips. She turned to look at him, blinking, ruby red beneath her fur for the embarrassment of it all. "What? Oh! Uhm, yes. I'm..." She paused, teetering on the edge of a lie if only to save face, but the possibility of being called upon to utilize feigned skills was a real and terrifying one."... not very good at it, yet."

In fact, she still sported quite the knot on her chin from a recent encounter with the kick-back.

Tomas' reassurance had her scrunching less, but it was hard not to do an impression of an accordion in Shale's presence. He was just so large, so... aggressive. Pax had once told her that the anger of the oppressed was something the elite had no right to hold against them (or something to that effect- Pax has always used words that were strange.) Amadeus tried to keep that in mind, but every time he barked an order in her direction, she found herself thinking back to the barracks, to the fear that suffocated like Dark District choke-damp and the yank of his teke in her hair.

"I would like that." She told Tomas, and then wondered why - surely she wouldn't have the nerve to actually hunt birds. Amadeus didn't think she could hunt anything and not bawl like a child.

"I've never been to Opulence. At least, not that I can remember. But I was very sick when I was younger, so I doubt mother would have taken me. I have been to-" Breim, she was going to say, but all the memories it conjured were unpleasant ones. Amadeus realized she didn't actually wish to speak of it.

A soft hiss caught her ear. Illidis' serpent had crawled from his scarf to rear high, flaring her magnificent hood. It would have been an astounding sight, had the words Amadeus picked up from her speech not made her blood run cold.

"T-that's-!" Amadeus frowned at the cobra in alarm, her brow crinkling. "She... she isn't really going to spit in Tomas' eye, is she?"

Conversation finds an abrupt end when there are indisputable sounds of another traveling party from close by. You can hear the unmistakable creak of wagon wheels and the typical chatter of travelers, although you can not quite make out what is said - only that the tone is conversational and friendly.

As quietly as you can, you creep forward. It’s slightly uphill - the road must be shadowed by a cliff, you realize - but the wind is on your side, and the travelers seem to have slowed down considerably, allowing you to make your way towards them sight unseen.

After perhaps five minutes of sneaking, you come to the summit of this small hillside. Covered by bushes, unmaintained grass and apple trees gone wild, you are well-shielded from anyone looking up from the road below.
The descent down from where you are to the road is steep, but not insurmountable. The road is perhaps fifteen paces away.


There, in the shadow of the cliff you are on, is a traveling party of Aodhians. Two wagons pulled by two brutishly large slaves each are the first thing you see. Their brands are clearly visible, even from this distance. The wagons both bear the Aodhian sigil - military caravans.
With them are what is clearly two average families. One group seems to consist of two adults with one young child, probably no older than four. The bigger group is led by one elderly pegasus, and has in it three adults and five children ranging from teenagers to babies. One of the adults looks remarkably similar to the elderly pegasus. With them is also a young but clearly cared for slave who seems to be busy sushing the children.

Neither one of the families looks like much of a threat, but accompanying them are three Chevaliers, clad in heavy armor and wielding crossbows and long blades.

You have not been noticed, and the chevaliers are currently busy trying to mend a wheel on the wagon.
All of them seem… Uneasy.