For the last few weeks, Charles had to say that life was actually looking up. He’d been able to come and visit his siblings frequently these days, filling the hole in his heart with a family that he never expected he would have. And, sure, they weren’t human, but neither was he. In the first place, Charles had begun to really reconsider what was so good about being human anyway.

Today, these quiet contemplations had led the two meter tall killer bird back before the gently flowing river near his abode to seek a bit of peaceful solitude. Soon though, for reasons that weren't quite clear to him, something told him that he was going to be busy with something else. It wasn’t a foreboding feeling, more akin to a steady buildup over time, something he noticed gradually as more and more essence collected in his body. It felt like there was a dam ready spill over, yet somehow not in a bad way.

As he stared at his reflection, Charles had a thought, ‘If I came here as a human… What would have really changed?’

‘People aren’t all bad,’ he nodded to himself, ‘but they’re not nearly all good either. Humans can be horrible to each other in the most casual ways. The moments when the veneer of civility peels away for gains and self-ingratiation.’ Suddenly, Charles snorted to himself, ‘Not like I’m some philosopher…’

He still remembered the feeling of the needle in his skin, the nurse who took away his choice. After everything, he knew that the other option was likely a slow and painful death, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say he was willing to pass into the embrace of death. Yet, for all that, he didn’t really blame the woman. She was doing the best she thought she could, just like the rest of them. They were all just trying to do the best they thought they could.

And that, Charles realized, was exactly the problem. Humans had the bad habit of trying to impress their idea of right and wrong on others. He was no exception, and it wasn’t even necessarily a bad thing, he supposed. But the problem was that people also came up with excuses to try to say that wasn’t the case, that they weren’t forcing anyone to do anything, that what they were doing was just the right thing and should be done. All the while pressuring and, indeed, forcing them to do what they, either the majority or the powerful, wanted.

It was the same out here, but more… brutally honest.

If Charles wanted to eat something, he would. If he wanted to fight an ironback badger in a deathmatch, he would. Sleep all day? Done.

The human-turned-bird gradually found himself letting go of his grumblings of how humans were so greedy. ‘What of it?’ He felt a sense of peace settling on his shoulders, ‘They’ll do what they want, no matter how colorful they make it sound. And so will I, just more… honest about it. It’s not like I like wanton killing or anything, but there’s no reason not to pursue what I want. If anyone wants to stop me, then they’ll just have to be able to stop me.’

Charles wasn’t sure why he was having these thoughts, but they were strangely potent, like he was in a half-dreaming state and settling his own heart. His goals, his outlook, his instincts, everything layered together closer, bound with the tether that was his will and mind. This, he decided, would be how he wanted to live in the future, at peace with himself, pursuing his own goals without minding what others thought. His family mattered, his deal with Alterra mattered, and he would live with a clear heart and an open outlook. Inevitably he would have enemies, but he realized that he was okay with that.

After all, he wasn’t human anymore. Why did he need to put up the veneer of civility to his enemies?

A powerful humming resounded from within Charles’ body, resonating deeply with his heart and mind. For a moment, he was startled, before he noticed that the awareness he had of his body had grown deeper and clearer, like a fog had been lifted. With his mind’s eye, he cast his awareness over every part of his form, marveling over the scintillating clouds of essence that cluttered his being.

It was then that he noticed the heat rising from deep in his core.

‘That’s not good…’ Charles instinctively knew that the time to retreat to his nest had come. With a calm collectedness, he moved through the forest, noticing the way the ambient essence seemed to chase him, settling around him like a cloak. With his newfound, deeper awareness, he noticed the energy sinking into his body, settling into his feathers, moving through his muscles and blood, saturating his bones and organs.

He sat within his nest, feeling the heat building further, a fever setting in as he kept himself calm. Something told him that this was alright, that there wasn’t any need to fear; this was by nature’s design that he was experiencing this phenomenon. Charles simply waited, sinking his mind deeper and deeper into the procession of ever rising warmth as more and more essence poured into him. Delirium set in quickly, borne from that all consuming warmth, feeling more like a heated blanket that somehow permeated every part of his body, pervading every cell. As the warmth and delirium surged higher, Charles lost consciousness, awash in the sensation gripping him.

When he flitted into consciousness once more, he strained his remaining willpower to hold on, intent on seeing what was happening in his body. The changes marveled him, his bones were growing stronger, his muscles tightening, skin and feathers hardening, and his organs became hardier and more efficient. Fragments of essence had collected into something resembling lines, framing his head and neck, some of which were even in his eyes. Down the length of his body, he noticed more that had begun to come into focus on his legs.

These were the places he most commonly focused essence, and instinctively Charles knew that these were merely portions of what could be. And with that instinctive realization, for the first time since the process began, Charles felt another part of himself, buried further still within his consciousness that held knowledge that he hadn’t known he had. With a call from his will it rose, and within his mind's eye he saw it.

For a brief instant he felt a whisper of fear - it was an egg of sorts, the surface of which rippled like water, completely opaque, completely identical to the egg that he’d seen in his nightmares so long ago, filled with multitudinous fleshy mutations and change. Chaos in a can, or rather, egg. But it didn’t emanate any waves of pressure, exuded no sign of malintent. In fact, Charles felt in the back of his mind that it wouldn’t - couldn’t, even - ever harm him. Information flowed from it, a piece of himself that guided the evolution process, not changing what he was becoming, but instead unlocking potential. He was the one that had to satisfy the conditions, fuel the drive, but it was what maximized these benefits.

And it was telling him that he needed to maximize benefits.

‘Alright, lets get started,’ Charles mentally nodded despite his misgivings. He pushed his will forward, feeling sluggish beneath the morass of essence in flux. Persisting, Charles finally made his way to his head. With the guidance of the egg, Charles focused on the essence there with his will, forcing the disparate fog to settle into lines, completing the broken fragments that were already there, expediting the process.

A huge influx of essence arrived then, as though swallowed greedily from the environment to fuel the new growth. Charles paid it little mind at this point, focusing intently on his work. These essence lines could be powerful, but less so without guidance, without intent. A normal beast would let nature compact these naturally, he realized, and it wouldn’t be weak by any means.

But he needed to have more than what nature alone would provide, given what his task was. So, Charles formed the lines in his eyes, focusing on the ability to see, clarity, but beyond that, to perceive the unseen. Perhaps this would be a waste, but Charles wanted to better see essence, to see the things hidden in plain sight. This naturally increased the function of his eyes by sheer virtue of the amount of essence newly saturating them, but Charles didn’t stop until a spherical cage of lines encompassed his eyes.

The warmth built once more, and Charles realized that his hold on his will was fading, slowly for now, but likely not for long. He’d need to move on and complete the other two he wanted.

His beak and neck were easier, compressing the lines and interlocking them with other parallel lines. The intent here was speed and power in his neck, where sharpness and durability were his priority for his beak. While it was easier, the essence pattern was many times larger than that of his eyes, and by the time he was finished, Charles had begun to feel the ghost of a pounding headache and the thrumming of essence in his body. But, he was confident that he would be much, much more dangerous with this.

As he traveled down to his legs, he pushed essence into his body, more and more of it. He didn’t have the time to reinforce everything; the rest would have to deal with itself, hopefully sprouting off of the frameworks he’d already made to give itself an advantage. Charles pushed, gritting his beak in determination as he dove decisively into the framework for his legs. Explosive power, endurance, and then Charles decided to get fancy. He pushed his intent for a silent step, trailless, unheard and unseen.

And felt his mind quake as he did the equivalent of kicking a door jamb with his bare foot at a dead sprint.

‘Motherf–’ curses resounded in his mind, dangerously quaking his mindscape before Charles hurriedly stabilized everything. Surges of warmth lapped at his consciousness, melting away bits and carrying it to be reabsorbed even as he calmly recentered himself. ‘Clearly, that’s too much. So… how about this?’

And so he tried again, infusing an intent of explosive power, endurance, and then a smaller amount of that complex stealth he wanted. As he did, he felt the resistance grow, and he grit his beak against the sensation, like the feeble bounds of his consciousness was about to sink beneath the waves of essence as they roiled at his touch. He was a lone rock in an angry ocean, slapped around and concussed by the hands of water-borne titans.

This time, he didn’t go under. The last line cinched closed with what felt like the last bead of willpower he had left. Charles sat back then, beaming with satisfaction at his work.

‘This egg is pretty awesome,’ he tiredly thought with a smile as the information flow from the egg sank slowly back - until it suddenly rocketed back into the depths of his mind with a fevered pace reminiscent of a mouse fleeing a bird of prey.

Charles clenched his eyes shut as he felt his body quake with the essence flux, and as the piercing pain began, the Phorus had to reconsider his previous stance on the egg.

‘Pecking hell.’ Was the last coherent thought he had before his consciousness was smashed under the waves ruthlessly, the lines of essence burning into his form like molten lava, funneling him out from the inside. At that moment Charles very much regretted putting essence lines in his eyes.

And, regrettably, the waves that lapped at his consciousness seemed content to continue doing their job very, very slowly.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After what felt like days, Charles finally opened his eyes, only to immediately groan. He knew he didn’t actually have aches and pains all over his body, just like he knew he didn’t have the mother of all splitting headaches sundering his brainstem in two any longer.

But the memory was keenly fresh, there had been no blessed release, or if there was it hadn’t come nearly damned fast enough.

“That sucked… Immensely.” Charles let loose another suffering moan, but also couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief that it was all over. The warm pulsing of the sigils in his home nest gently assuaged his still heaving mind, feeling for all its sake like it’d just gone through the grandfather of all beatings.

Outside, he noted that night had already fallen, but somehow he could see with near perfect clarity. Charles weakly sat up at that, his eyes turning and gazing all around him. Unlike before, he noticed that there was more essence in the air. The standard gaseous form in the flavor of what he coined unattuned essence still gently swayed in an invisible and unfelt breeze, but others were visible to him now as well. Flickers of not-light emerged from the cloud, and for every one that Charles saw he realized he could somehow tell a little bit about what they were.

Flecks of green were most prevalent, accompanied by brown and black motes, whispers of other types of essences that he’d never realized was around. As he turned his gaze to the sigils, he started, not expecting the sheer amount of compacted essence within them and the thrum of green that circulated through them. The environment slowly fed them, green flecks vanishing within before radiating outwards, somehow appearing different from the natural flow, yet the same. It was like somehow being able to see the difference between river water and filtered water.

Charles’ guess was that the sigils were effectively doing just that, though. Filtered essence was being used to impart some kind of effect in the sigils area.

As happy as he was to have this kind of development, Charles also realized that he had no idea how to turn it off…

“Alright, lets go to the river an-” Charles moved to rise, only to find himself exceedingly clumsy on his feet, as though he was many times lighter than he was supposed to be.

Or, he realized, much more powerful.

“Ah, peck, this is gonna take some getting used to…”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere in the forest, a group of four were slowly picking their way through. They were quiet, and for their part, very aware of their surroundings. Skye picked her path carefully, trying to stick to areas where her less woodland-inclined companions would find it easier to make less noise.

Yet every stick snapped, every bush rustled, still set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t their fault, but Skye promised herself that the moment they had enough money, everyone was getting a silent-passing enchantment on their boots.

Especially Ronald.

Another snap resounded out as the three of his teammates turned to him. His cheeks flushed as he shook his head. Helplessly, the other three gave small smiles and shook their heads. In spite of his large size, he was quiet and careful in his movements, indicating an experience in moving with the bits of platemail that he donned. Though he could only do so much, unfortunately.

Finally, they paused at a large tree, the roots pushing up from the ground to form several nooks they could lie within, if they so chose. Skye called back to the others, “Let’s take a break here.”

Her three companions nodded in agreement. While Ronald was the combat leader, all things involving travel fell to Skye’s expertise. It was a system they had long agreed with, and there hadn’t been any problems with the chain of command as of yet. There wasn’t strictly a team leader, something none of them felt any need for considering they were only a team of four.

“I’m thinking I need to invest in better boots,” Ronald spoke out first, the chagrined expression on his face causing Mithel to burst out into laughter.

“That’d probably be good, yeah,” Dachna smirked, “can’t be helped for now though. Better hope our quarry isn’t skittish.”

The Greenhorns each sat on the roots, resting their feet whilst drinking and eating small rations. In reality, they were all a little concerned, but they tried not to let it show. Skye especially couldn’t help but feel her nerves tighten.

If they could keep this to themselves, it’d be for the best. It would definitely help if they could try to remain as undetected as possible. Given that, they’d set off in the lull between other teams’ departures. Most that were in Greenleaf were fledgelings that traveled from nearby provinces, looking to train their foundations. A supporting population of veterans and seniors, however, settled in Greenleaf also, only further making the city more attractive for would-be adventurers. Arnost at large was famed for its rich variety of essence lands, in particular for the fact that most regions did not share a border with a dramatically higher tiered essence territory.

It was a lucky thing too, letting rookies get a taste for the adventuring life, but also giving them a more than equal chance of gathering essence and eventually managing to fuse with it. It was a long process, one that differed slightly from person to person and relied heavily on talent and effort, but it was a satisfying venture. You could, of course, just be a baker and gradually condense essence over time from what was in the air, but there wasn’t anything quite like living out in the wilds and claiming essence for your own. Every breath of air out here had more essence in it than in the city. It was just that there were too many people there, too many absorbing the same ambient source.

Eating beasts was still one of the faster methods to gain essence, and not uncommon at all for an adventurer, but who among the normal populace in Greenleaf could deal with a pissed off ironback badger without serious risk of injury?

“How much further is it?” Dachna asked Skye, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Mmm… Probably another two hours walk?” She answered idly, casting a gaze out about the forest, taking in the healthy moss covered trees, the spots of greenery that grew under the canopy. The deeper they went, the fewer in number the shafts of light became, ever constrained by the reaching tree branches above. Even in spite of that, though, the undergrowth actually didn’t lessen in the slightest. With rich essence, they were more efficient - requiring less light to grow, less nutrients from the soil.

That was another reason why these low-essence areas were so useful; they made great farmland even if there weren’t any suitable hunting and training grounds for fledgling adventurers.

“We’re a little close to the Daurghast here, right?” Mithel asked, a tinge of wariness coloring her voice.

Skye nodded, understanding her fully, “We don't need to cross it at any point. At the most, we’ll see some of the borderlands, but I didn’t come across any signs that we’d need to be careful when I came through last time.”

“Good, that place is waaay below my bottom line,” Dachna shivered to the silent agreement of the others. The Daurghast had a horrible reputation as a rookie-trap, especially given how close it was to the milder parts of the Evergreen. Going in there without at least having a single condensed essence pattern was nothing short of stupidity, and a good way to cut your career - and life - short.

Each of them were close to condensing their own essence patterns, but it was foolish to be hasty on what they wanted. Hence, they still abstained from entering the Daurghast, in spite of its close proximity to the Evergreen and the opportunities that could be found within.

Ronald let out a low grunt of annoyance, drawing attention to him as he stood from his spot, walking away from the location. The others were confused, up until they noticed the bunch of ants that were trailing a highway near the spot. “Did I ever mention that I hate ants?” He muttered to no one in particular, patting down his sides to sweep off a few errant wanderers.

Skye shook her head, “Maybe once or twice.”

The others shook their heads with slight smiles on their faces. Ronald didn’t just hate ants, he had a special place of disgust and contempt for virtually all insects. Even butterflies. They never understood that until he described their eating habits to the others.

At which point, their beauty wasn’t any less nice to see, but Skye certainly wasn’t quite as thrilled to see them as before.

“Alright, we may as well keep going the-” Skye paused abruptly, head swiveling to the south east as she dropped into a low stance. The others reacted soundlessly a moment behind, but made no other sounds. None of them had hearing as good as she did, and so they turned their attention outwards, trying to see though the vegetation, failing after a few tens of meters. This was the other reason why the Evergreen was a good training ground for rookies. Your sensory range was inevitably shorter here than in town, muffled sounds and decreased sightlines pushed would-be adventurers to use every sense together.

Or you could lumber through everything, but the Greenhorns believed in building solid foundations before rushing up into a more essence rich area, considering how dangerous some of them could be.

“Sounds like a wagon, and people are shouting…” Skye whispered to the group, though none of them could hear it.

Ronald chewed his cheek at that, before sighing and asking Skye “We check it out?”

A brief flash of unwillingness settled on her countenance before being buried under resolve, “We check it. At best, it’s a greener group that’s dumb enough to try to take an unenchanted wagon through the Evergreen. Worst case, they need help.”

She and the others left the remaining possibilities unsaid. They could be up to no good, but if that was the case then they doubly had to go check things out. While they weren’t expected to resolve every crime that happened, reporting them was in their list of responsibilities.

Slowly they moved forward, doing their best not to make any noise. Even Ronald managed to keep his steps quiet, though as they neared closer they all realized that they needn’t have cared. The shouting of voices grew louder as they went, and they noticed the muffled noises of groaning as well.

Then they heard snarling, a feral, wild noise that sounded like it came from a small pack of dogs all at once. It vibrated through the air with a just barely perceptible essence fluctuation, prickling their skin with a clear threat of violence. Skye, Ronald, Mithel, and Dachna all paused at that, their expressions hardening as they realized the probability of one of the bad things happening just went up.

With hand signs, Skye signaled to Dachna and Mithel rapidly. Mithel nodded, pulling out several flasks and twisting the caps with a light crackle sound. Immediately, faint essence mists exuded from the pale teal filled glass. She handed off several flasks to Dachna and immediately sat herself down against a tree, going as motionless as possible as she took out a different colored one herself. Grimacing, Mithel drank the potion down, and Skye felt her essence profile wane until it was nearly invisible.

While Skye didn’t have any ability to detect essence aura’s from afar, that didn’t mean that others didn’t. Dachna for his part drank one, doing his best to keep from gagging on the potent brew. He disdained this particular potion most, but it was undeniably a safer choice considering the possibility of trouble. Silently, he slipped off into the underbrush, nearly as undetectable as Skye herself would have been.

‘Almost wouldn’t think of him as a city-dweller,’ Skye nodded in approval before turning to Ronald. The prepwork would be done momentarily thanks to Dachna and Mithel, which just left their side.

Within a few more moments they were close enough to peer through the greenery, taking in the scene responsible for the cacophony. A large wagon, one outfitted for rough terrain - an expensive one at that - currently sat at the edge of a man-made clearing. The vegetation here was cut and cleared, even including several trees that had been maneuvered in such a way as to create some measure of defensive walls.

However, said walls were not on the outer edges of the camp, but instead in a funnel towards a large cage that rested in front of a ramp leading into the confines of the wagon. Several crates full of tools lay around, the bulk of which included chains, collars, and even muzzles and claw-guards. To Skye, any fool could tell that this was very clearly a poaching operation. Tamers had a very distinctive style, and this abominable practice wasn’t it. The Arnost Kingdom despised this kind of thing.

Within moments she spotted the source of the snarling they’d heard; in the middle of the barricade a struggling, green-ish beast fought against chains and weighted nets. She could feel the buzz of higher tier essence from the creature, but she could tell that it must have been fighting for a long time, its essence was already declining.

The wolf-like creature was about 1.2 meters tall at the shoulder, firmly well muscled and had fur covered in moss. Unlike what most expected, the Greenhound didn’t have matted fur or an unkempt appearance. It was a beautiful creature, moss forming a mane around its neck and trailing down its back and legs with grace, its long, brown and grey fur sleek in sunshine - and currently blood - giving it an almost fae-born elegance. This one was a young adult, given the lack of flowers and other colorful vegetation that had taken to its supported fur bed. Its essence roiled, tasting of bare aggression and defiance, flagging tragically into defeat, but also bore a clear note of plant-affinity essence.

Skye noticed the people next, and with great difficulty pried her eyes from the poor beast. Eight of them wore black, a mixture of leather, chain, and plate armor protecting their bodies. They had varying weapons of no particular type, but what struck her most was the fact that this well armed group made no moves at all to approach or help detain the Greenhound in the slightest. Instead, they almost seemed to emanate an air of oppressive authority over the remaining fourteen men and women in plain leathers.

A number that appeared to have previously been fifteen, based on the corpse of the man laying unceremoniously on his side slightly further away, throat torn out by claw or fang in their attempts to capture the beast. It was foolish, considering most of these people probably didn’t have even a single essence pattern condensed. The men in black, though, Skye had no idea. She didn’t have the ability to sense that from so far away, not without them intentionally flaring their aura.

Skye grit her teeth at the sight of them, carefully looking between the clearly distinct groups and then at the body on the ground. And, in spite of herself, nearly let out a gasp of shock as she realized another detail she’d missed.

Before she could gesture to Ronald in retreat, though, she felt the eyes of one of the men in black shift over to her.

‘Definitely at least first level,’ Skye thought sourly, knowing the man that looked at her had to have condensed an essence pattern in his eyes. Besides hurting like hell, one had to be quite confident in their own willpower to attempt it, considering screwing up could have rather disastrous side-effects.

She didn’t think about that anymore as the man called out to his companions. Skye and Ronald stepped out as one, carefully keeping weapons drawn, but not pointing at them aggressively.

The workmen paused, almost losing grip on the chains that wrapped the Greenhound at the sight of them. Skye didn’t miss the hopeful look in their eyes. It was a look that cut right through her hesitance and kindled a small fire of hate to the black armored men.

“Get back to work!” A big man with a spear shouted at the men, “Remember my orders.”

The men’s expressions grew unsightly at that, like they were being forced to swallow rot. Yet, each of them turned back to their task, all but a man with tightly braided hair, a handsome face and complexion and a faint glimmer of defiance in his eyes. He met Skye and Ronald’s eyes with what she could only describe as a mix of outrage and pleading. A vein throbbed on the man's neck visibly before he turned his attention back to his task, gritting his teeth as though he were tolerating immense pain.

The black armored man in the lead took on an aggrieved expression as he listened to the eye-patterned man’s low words.

“There’s a lot more’n these two out there. Can’t tell their essence level, though.” Skye barely heard them say, leaving her with a rare thankful moment about her half-elf heritage and the improved hearing it imparted upon her.

The leader bore an aggrieved expression on his face for a moment before it vanished. He turned to the pair before him, no trace of caution in his expression. A small, almost cordial smile appeared on his face as he considered the pair, resting for a moment too long on both of their faces.

Skye’s mental caution meter went up a level.

“Well, can’t say I really expected to run into anyone out here. So, who the hell are you two, and what do you want?” The man was direct, somewhat taking Skye by surprise. Usually, the criminal types tended to get really dodgy and try to intimidate her. This, of course, wasn’t the first batch of poachers that the Greenhorns had seen. They were by far the most organized though.

‘And armed,’ Skye added mentally before speaking, “Adventurer’s of Greenleaf, the Arnost Kingdom.” Skye started with a bit of steel in her tone, but decidedly left out her name or her group's name. They were somewhat famous in the area, and the last thing she wanted was for this clearly more powerful group to suspect that they only had four people out here, and not more.

The flasks Dachna had set must have been enough to distract and cloud the eye-patterned man’s senses, making him think there were many more of them around than he thought. She definitely didn’t want to lose that perceived advantage.

“Right.” The man waited a few more seconds for Skye to finish her introduction. In that space, somehow the silence between them was louder than the Greenhound still being subdued near them.

Skye glanced at the Greenhound once more, eyes narrowed on the sight of it flagging, finally being dragged unwillingly into the cage, chains on all sides keeping it from lashing out in any particular direction. “Poaching is a major offense around here.”

“Mhm,” the man nodded, tone clear as he agreed, “very, you almost might think that the Arnost Kingdom is famed for their taming or something.” The humorous tone in his voice belied that casual disdain he had for Skye’s words.

Incensed, she spat, “Oh, piss off. Let the damn hound go and tame it like a real fuckin’ man if you want it so bad.”

The air turned tense as the workmen swallowed hard, yet contrary to their expectations, the eight men merely seemed to smirk at the display. “Sure, if I wanted the thing, maybe I’d care. But, well, I don’t exactly?” The man in the lead shrugged, “I am selling the thing, after all.”

Skye felt her blood pressure rise, and opened her mouth to say something further when she was cut off by the man.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but can you and your friends fuck off? I don’t especially like casual killing, but I will pike all of you to a tree if you keep it up.” The man’s smile expanded into an evil grin, and Skye felt her fire flicker for a moment before roaring into a flame.

“You sure about that?” Ronald ground out, his fist clenching tightly around his pole-axe.

Only now did the intensity build as all eight men exuded aura’s of essence from them, letting the pair feel their power level. Skye internally cursed - all of them were essence level one at least - and knew instantly that their amount of preparation wouldn’t necessarily count for shit here.

Still, they stood strong, moving to battle stances with grit. If Ronald didn’t retreat, Skye would fight, and vice versa. From afar, she knew that Dachna was likely ready to put an arrow in someone’s eye - or a knife, that wasn’t uncommon - where Mithel probably had a few horrible alchemical concoctions ready to go. That wouldn’t turn the tides, they were clearly outnumbered, but they also didn’t want to roll over.

The leader on the other side frowned at the sight, his head tilting fractionally as he considered the pair again. None of the armored men moved, seemingly waiting for the big man's order. Meanwhile, the workmen finished closing the cage and hauling it into the cart, rapidly putting everything away in the span of a minute. The whole while, they couldn’t help but cast fearful glances at the two sides, cursing in their hearts, but not saying anything aloud.

Finally, the leader’s eyes flickered to the wagon and their surroundings, contemplatively as he peered back to the two.

“Alright, I can see you two are willing to go down fighting,” he spoke with an almost solemn tone. Skye and Ronald tensed, knowing that the hardest battle of their lives was about to commence.

The man bloomed with a radiant smile, “But I don't hate that. So, tell you what, we’ll fuck off this time. We’re done here anyways.” Immediately the guys behind him retracted their aura’s with a laugh, moving over to the cart and issuing orders, save for two who quickly grabbed the corpse of the workman off the ground and put it into the back of the wagon.

Skye and Ronald started at that, glancing at each other in near disbelief at the scene. Had they actually managed to intimidate them? That… Seemed unlikely.

“Ah, right.” The man turned on his heel, still smiling, “If you follow me, then you die. That’s just bothersome for all of us.”

When he finished, he pulled his arm back making a thrusting motion as essence suddenly roiled in the air around him. Skye saw the trajectory of his stab, but couldn’t help but stare bewilderedly at how he was still over thirty feet away.

Then she felt the impact of the strike between herself and Ronald, piercing into the tree behind them with a vague shadow of essence. Splintered wood showered out as a hole several inches deep appeared in the wake of the strike, all trace of the attack disintegrating in the air shortly after.

With a chill in her heart, Skye turned her attention back to the armored man, who looked at the pair of them with something akin to amusement, “Message clear?”

Neither moved, after which the man nodded and walked alongside the cart as it trundled away. “You all have fun now! Try not to step on any bear-traps from now on!” He called almost jovially as he waved over his shoulder, leaving both of them dumbfounded.

Moments later, Dachna and Mithel slipped out of the forest, both pale faced as they stood beside their teammates.

“The fuck was all that?” Dachna stared after the cart, now long out of sight, somehow managing to push through the underbrush with ease.

“That was us nearly dying,” Ronald spoke stoically, but his grip was iron-tight on his pole-axe, “he could have killed either one of us with that strike and I’m not sure we could have responded in time.”

“No, I mean that’s bad, but the other shit,” Dachna stated dismissively, leaving Ronald confused.

“You saw it too, then?” Skye grit her teeth, the pair of them exchanging serious glances.

“Fill us in?” Mithel finished putting away several flasks, some of which were definitely explosive in nature.

“Those workmen were Oath-Bound,” Skye stated, checking Dachna’s face, seeing him nod. He’d seen the same thing, the corpse on the ground had an Oath-Bound collar around his neck. Most used bracelets or tattoos, so as to be less conspicuous in public, but some didn’t care either way.

“In the employ of a fucking poacher?” Ronald blurted out in dismay, “There’s no way the labor guild fucked up that badly, they vet all of their employers.”

“Apparently not… But also, there’s the problem that they were definitely not doing that of their own accord. And that was more dangerous than any Oath-Bound would be willing to do. Samut’s arse, one of them died!” Mithel shook her head in disbelief, “That’s not supposed to be possible with the Oath.”

The group went silent then with a heavy, cold feeling that settled on their shoulders.

“The Phorus wooing plan is gonna have to wait,” Ronald sighed aloud, turning to the others, “Dad’s gotta know about this, and the guild.”

They nodded, knowing he had a duty to Greenleaf even more so than a regular adventurer, “We go together, then. In the first place, if this is something big, then that’ll help us out anyways.”

The others turned to Dachna at that, “Y’know, I mean, saying it reputation-wise, I obviously don’t mean to profit off anyone’s misfortune.”

Skye shook her head, “Let’s go, quickly.”

All the while, no one noticed the gold-orange eyes that had come upon the scene, silently watching as they left.