for there are many ways to kill a man they say

Alright, assholes, let’s allllllll gather around the only one who’s doing something and offer sarcastic, remarkably unhelpful advice. The new guy has an excuse because he’s, well, new. But Rikyn is just as likely to get a whack from her dino tail as he is to be ignored. Like a child. Erebos just gets lumped in by sheer luck.

Now, Wessex has never seen Rhodoc before, but it’s not likely that he got all the way to the other side of the Basin without anyone noticing him, and he smells a bit like the rest of them, so she’s willing to let the fact that he’s a complete stranger slide. For now. She retorts in low tones, sarcasm dripping from her tongue in great, viscous globs. “Well you know, the God says jump and some of us ask ‘how high?’ And then the smart ones just go ahead and fucking jump. So… yes. Dogsitting. The glamorous life of a Basin soldier.” It’s turned from Blood, Sweat, and Tears to blood, sweat, and babysitting. She wrenches her gaze from the pups to the horned stallion and gives him a good once-over. “Who are you?”

She would have been most content to banter about with the violet-eyed stranger, but the fun just had to be ruined by Rikyn. Sans Duir, he comes without answers, solutions, or even a helpful, magicless hint, and once again, she finds herself wondering how he is worthy of his title.  Orange-yellow eyes narrow a fraction when she glances his way, and then back to the wandering pup. She then takes measure of the skies, and there are no predators wheeling about, eager to snatch the rogue. Only its own sense of adventure and mischief get in its way – but they are correct, time is ticking. Luckily, she spots Erebos on Rikyn’s heels, and all she throws at his is a quick admonishment. “Try acting like a Lord, Rikyn, instead of a brat who’s forced to do some chore he doesn’t like.”

And then the General is there, and Wessex is all business again, looking at the three stallions and then back to the pups. “I was going to wrangle it all the old-fashioned way, but I think Erebos is right. Can Orsino bring it back down the den safely?”

A flash of movement in the left corner of her eye causes Wessex to whip her head around and focus on the blurs that can be seen between the rock piles. “Do you all see – “ three distinct, quickly moving figures, and all of them heading for the den. A flash of metal. Straight trajectory. There is no more time to delay! “Erebos – pups. Rikyn and – you – with me. Those things.” The Corporal has absolutely no idea what they’re up against, but she knows a weapon when she sees one, and the God has specifically said to protect them. Here goes nothing. Trying to avoid the other pups as best she can, Wessex springs from the coverage in the trees and aims to intercept the trolls, head of horns lowered and at the ready. Again, she finds herself thankful she had the inclination to put on her armor before she left the cave this morning. Cause there’s a hell of a lot that can go wrong…

I am Iron and I Forge Myself