The heavy frowns of focus and stress the guards wore grew deeper. They were doing the best they could, but most had never encountered any foe that was non-human and they were under heavy pressure. Not only because they were afraid –shaking in their boots, their hands trembling—or because they were more than aware they could not let some monstrosity run rampant in fair Andaris –their families lived there too, after all—but also because letting the thing escape would get them in some trouble with the unreasonable officers, and because the Becomer could just become something or someone else, becoming undetectable. It affected their reasoning, their otherwise steady hands. It brought them to panic, to rush their attacks, to fumble when reloading their crossbows, to sweat bullets, and to forego tactics.
Ultimately, the Becomer managed to avoid most bolts shot at it, and quickly gained height and speed, rapidly putting great distance between it and its attackers. The Venoran Lord asked them questions that really showed he was not a man with military knowledge, but none of the guards could blame him. They could be annoyed, and they were, but they could not openly bite sour comments his way.
“Too far away,” one managed reasonably polite. “Wouldn’t hit even if we did shoot. Bolts wouldn’t reach either.”
Others nodded, but none were just standing around. The man in charge swiftly picked two knights to stay behind with him, while the others were to pursue the beast and capture it. That last bit was optional; killing was also allowed. Either way, the Lord was right, the Becomer could not be left roaming the city.
The ones that stayed behind began gathering testimonies, and scoured the area, assessing the damage, as well as looking for clues that could be used to identify the Becomer, or help the Hand track them down. One provided medical aid to those in need of it, though it seemed that apart from one of the neighbors who’d been cut by some broken glass no residents were hurt.
Yana meanwhile, was slowly limping through the house of the Becomer, gritting her teeth and making her way to the front door. Her whole body was hurting. She was bleeding, though that probably was the least of her injuries. She had no bones to break, no organs to lose, but that did not mean she was immune to pain, nor did it make her undying. It made her harder to cut, yes, painful to punch too, but heck, all of those still hurt. That she had been thrown against a couple walls did not make things better in the least. Well, at least she wasn’t emitting light. Things would have gotten far worse if that Dora had chosen not to fight with her dagger. She’d have been more unpredictable, and should she have picked the Yludih up and thrown her around like a ragdoll… She shivered. Damn, it was cold.
She only noticed Tristan when he spoke to her, too focused on not collapsing on the floor, on placing one foot in front of the other. She did try to answer his question with a snarky remark, but her jaw felt too painful to use, so she settled for looking at him with a fairly dirty expression. No, she was clearly not all right. It was nice that she was allowed to keep the purse though, she’d charged way to less nel for this job. It had turned out far more dangerous than anticipated. As far as she was concerned, Tristan had gotten his life saved at a bargain price. “Thanks,” she creaked, spitting out some blood. Short answers worked.
The first aid knight arrived in the doorway, the leading steward in tow. He pointed at Tristan before his gaze settled on the Yludih, his expression tightening. The both of them approached, and the steward took the Lordling aside, while the medic came to support the mercenary.
“Want me to patch you up?”
“Do you have a female medic?” she asked, not because she was unwilling to undress in front of a man, but because she wasn’t too sure in what state her chest and abdomen were. Those had received particularly hard kicks, and she’d rather not be revealed as a Yludih. Worst case scenario it would give her a few bits of time to either get away, or check her injuries herself first.
“Ehh… No,” the man spoke, “ But I can leave the kit here if you want to do it yourself?”
She nodded.
“All right. Bring it back when you are done,” he said, placing the first aid kit in her hands, then turning around to leave.
Tristan had been led to a more private area by the steward, who was now giving the young Lord a serious look.
“Lord Venora, first, my apologies for doubting your words earlier. I thought you were having a bad trip. Please forgive me.” He bowed his head briefly, and then moved on to more important matters. “I would like you, as a key witness, to describe these events as accurately as you can. We can do this here, or at the headquarters, but I would rather do it now when it is still fresh. It should not take too long. Any personal details will not be made public, don’t worry.” He paused for a moment. “So, Lord Venora, can you tell me what exactly happened here before we arrived?”
Ultimately, the Becomer managed to avoid most bolts shot at it, and quickly gained height and speed, rapidly putting great distance between it and its attackers. The Venoran Lord asked them questions that really showed he was not a man with military knowledge, but none of the guards could blame him. They could be annoyed, and they were, but they could not openly bite sour comments his way.
“Too far away,” one managed reasonably polite. “Wouldn’t hit even if we did shoot. Bolts wouldn’t reach either.”
Others nodded, but none were just standing around. The man in charge swiftly picked two knights to stay behind with him, while the others were to pursue the beast and capture it. That last bit was optional; killing was also allowed. Either way, the Lord was right, the Becomer could not be left roaming the city.
The ones that stayed behind began gathering testimonies, and scoured the area, assessing the damage, as well as looking for clues that could be used to identify the Becomer, or help the Hand track them down. One provided medical aid to those in need of it, though it seemed that apart from one of the neighbors who’d been cut by some broken glass no residents were hurt.
Yana meanwhile, was slowly limping through the house of the Becomer, gritting her teeth and making her way to the front door. Her whole body was hurting. She was bleeding, though that probably was the least of her injuries. She had no bones to break, no organs to lose, but that did not mean she was immune to pain, nor did it make her undying. It made her harder to cut, yes, painful to punch too, but heck, all of those still hurt. That she had been thrown against a couple walls did not make things better in the least. Well, at least she wasn’t emitting light. Things would have gotten far worse if that Dora had chosen not to fight with her dagger. She’d have been more unpredictable, and should she have picked the Yludih up and thrown her around like a ragdoll… She shivered. Damn, it was cold.
She only noticed Tristan when he spoke to her, too focused on not collapsing on the floor, on placing one foot in front of the other. She did try to answer his question with a snarky remark, but her jaw felt too painful to use, so she settled for looking at him with a fairly dirty expression. No, she was clearly not all right. It was nice that she was allowed to keep the purse though, she’d charged way to less nel for this job. It had turned out far more dangerous than anticipated. As far as she was concerned, Tristan had gotten his life saved at a bargain price. “Thanks,” she creaked, spitting out some blood. Short answers worked.
The first aid knight arrived in the doorway, the leading steward in tow. He pointed at Tristan before his gaze settled on the Yludih, his expression tightening. The both of them approached, and the steward took the Lordling aside, while the medic came to support the mercenary.
“Want me to patch you up?”
“Do you have a female medic?” she asked, not because she was unwilling to undress in front of a man, but because she wasn’t too sure in what state her chest and abdomen were. Those had received particularly hard kicks, and she’d rather not be revealed as a Yludih. Worst case scenario it would give her a few bits of time to either get away, or check her injuries herself first.
“Ehh… No,” the man spoke, “ But I can leave the kit here if you want to do it yourself?”
She nodded.
“All right. Bring it back when you are done,” he said, placing the first aid kit in her hands, then turning around to leave.
Tristan had been led to a more private area by the steward, who was now giving the young Lord a serious look.
“Lord Venora, first, my apologies for doubting your words earlier. I thought you were having a bad trip. Please forgive me.” He bowed his head briefly, and then moved on to more important matters. “I would like you, as a key witness, to describe these events as accurately as you can. We can do this here, or at the headquarters, but I would rather do it now when it is still fresh. It should not take too long. Any personal details will not be made public, don’t worry.” He paused for a moment. “So, Lord Venora, can you tell me what exactly happened here before we arrived?”
