Wooj and the squad continued to fail in their pursuit of MC and the others. His frustrations began to get the better of him as he pushed towards decisions that hindered the group effort.

"We should venture to Florestria. They know we are in pursuit; they will try to hide in places that they think government workers won't step foot in." His bark was starting to sound deluded and narrow-sighted to the squad.

The captain in particular felt it necessary to continue to speak out against the decision. "Wooj... you're starting to lose it. It's not a big deal to let some nobodies disappear. They're bound to pop up at some point. We should~"

"If I wanted to hear your opinion, Captain, I'd ask for it." Waving a hand to swipe through his system windows, Wooj made contact with his superior.

The squad began to speak together, furious at the attitude of Wooj towards the captain.

"He's cruising for a bruising." Cracking his knuckles and looking at Wooj, the bard tried to get the others to agree.

"Cap, can we just give him a little beating? "Go on, just a few punches and kicks for the shit attitude." said the Spellslinger

The captain dismissed the idea with a head shake and lowered ears, saying, "We can't." There's no way we'd be able to get away with it. As much as I'd bloody love to kick the guy's teeth out. We'd be on our own; the squads are isolated from each other for a reason. They don't want us united."

"What a dumb fucking rule," replied the Swiftler.

"Sir. The target continues to evade our pursuit. Rest assured we will catch them. I just need more time." Wooj's feeble attempts at trying to smooth-talk his superior were dismissed with lispy, spitty barking.

"YES YES, I hear the same shit every time from you bandit bailiffs too often for me to care. Put the damn brakes on, and escort the squad to the Widdlewans. We're hearing reports of fighting, and there are no available guildies or officials nearby. Congratulations, you're up! "Don't contact me again until you report back."

call ended

You continue to humiliate me, you bloody non-sent...

"Orders from high up. We're too rush to the Widdlewans and investigate the reports of fighting."

The captain attempted to make contact with his superior also but was told, "There's an override in place; follow the orders of your

current lead,"

Fucking hell... what a waste of our time this is.

"Yes, sir, Wooj. Squad, let's go."

"Sir!"

***

"No matter what tricks you try to play on me, I see right through that bullshit."

[Hmph. You're far stronger than I could have anticipated, wretch. no matter. Perhaps it is time for my brethren to finally make their appearance. Such a shame that I failed to stand against you alone.

Throwing the axe towards Dylan and winding up the chain, Kiki shouted, "I'm tired of hearing you speak in tongues," lashing out and leaving a crater where they once stood.

Soaring high into the air [O' brothers, O' sisters. Hear me in this time of need. Grace us with your presence; let us stand to cleanse the invading filth!]

The skies began to darken as clouds began to be dragged towards Dylan.

Thunderous booms in the distance and elemental rains began to pour down. Mandems began to feel shocks, burns and pummelling's as different drops landed on their weak, tired and vulnerable persons.

Willieth and the troupe had long since struggled to make their way from the fighting; hiding among the trees, they were able to shelter from the incoming dangers, but injuries slowed them regardless.

"I limp through muddy, crunch-filled floors. Stand here smitten by thy grace's wonderful boons. OW,"

The troupe dropped the act, and the roadie with his hand-made peasant leathers lost his temper, screaming in the leader's face, "Oh, shut up, Willieth. This is not the time for roleplaying. Get a fucking grip."

"Thine fellows... you turn on me so?" The roadie punched Willieth; the fist cracked against his jaw, swivelling his head and earning the roadie an "OW" as he stared, rubbing the side of his jaw. "Alright, mate, I heard your point; you didn't have to smack me so hard."

"We need to get out of here, you weapon. So any suggestions?"

The troupe had none. As the skies rained Raiton droplets on the already wet ground, it was becoming dangerous to traverse across the forest floor, which had shifted from a bright blue from the Aqua element to a bold purple as the Raiton poured down.

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"Great, now we're stuck trying. Good job, Willieth, you just had to stalk the redhead, didn't you? WILL YOU EVER STOP TRYING TO BE A MAIN CHARACTER! DICKHEAD."

Peasant 1, feeling too uncomfortable at the expletives, tried to calm his fellow: "Settle down, Richie; that's gone far enough."

"Petey, you know I'm right. Penny thinks the same too. Don't defend Willy Wanker over there."

"Don't get me involved, Richie, and you don't speak for me either."

"WHATEVER,"

***

Wooj and the squad had managed to rush towards the Widdlewans thanks to help from speed buffs courtesy of the squad battle leader. Thundering drums gave their footsteps small thrusts as their feet would leave the ground. Their rapid trip caused them to collide with Mandems as they reached closer to the entrance.

Several were sent flying; others dropped dead instantly because the unstoppable 1500 lb unit of a bandit bailiff meeting a level 12 barely armoured idiot trying to run headfirst at the propulsion blasts is a recipe for disaster. Trust my E in physics.

"Sir. What should we do about the Mandems? This is an unprecedented event."

Wooj analysed the situation. While unleashing a world of pain on a few greys would cool him off, he didn't want to upset his superior by engaging a fleeing enemy.

CRASH

The group looked towards the sky, waiting for the next lightning bolt to strike down.

But it never came; instead, four pillars of light erupted forth from the skies with the mark of Serilia.

What on Maliterr... is that? the squad captain thought. Four marks of the goddess? Will there be a message from herself today?

Wooj made up his mind. "Squad, we're going to that spot IMMEDIATELY; ignore the Mandems." Darting off, the squad looked at each other unsure, hesitating. "He's the highest in command here; we can't disobey..." the squad captain groaned.

"We know, cap. It's ok," The three rushed to try and continue alongside the bandit bailiff charging ahead recklessly. If only Wooj and the squad noticed, in the light. Black silhouettes descending towards the ground…

***

As they darted through the woods, scenes of bodies strewn across the floor left them with growing concern. Wooj tried to make a mental note each time something caught his eye.

So many deathblows… this is the work of someone phenomenally strong. Every strike was effortless in splitting apart the target, cleanly separating a head from its owner. But why are there also figures here that have been killed with a fatal, yet less overwhelming strike? Slitting the arteries in the neck, a stab to the heart – in this one here, Wooj noted from a fleeting glance at a relatively young, recently deceased mandem.

He was stalwart against negative thoughts and continued onwards; his mind cared more regarding the lights that were seen in the distance. The squad, having already seen such sights in the past, were numb to the views. Looking ahead was their best option. That was until the swiftler caught sight of limping figures in the west.

"Sir. I have eyes on known individuals." Wooj stopped in his tracks; the squad did also, after a brief unified skidding across the body-riddled floor. "What did you see, private?" Wooj barked at him. The Swiftler pointed in the direction, straight west of their current location, "Willieth Shakingspeare and the troupe." "I've no idea who that is, private. Let us~" The squad captain rushed in front of Wooj, holding his hands out. "Sir! Wait a minute. This could be beneficial to us."

Lord, give me strength… "What is it, captain? I think there are more pressing matters at hand than some random group." Wooj sighed and folded huge muscular arms across his chest.

"They're world famous. Willieth is an astounding legend reciter; he probably has the scoop on what's happened here." Taking a moment to ponder, Wooj questioned whether this was a suitable idea or not. The squad looked around at each other, unsure of Wooj's next move. The captain tried to persuade him further. "Wooj. If we go into the light. And all we've seen here so far… let's be real, we probably won't make it out. This is not the work of some low-level adventurers; this is top 100 at least. Squads B and A should be here for this…" bastard… You dare to play a card like that… but you may be right here, but what is that light? I NEED TO KNOW.

The squad took it upon themselves to start walking in the direction the Swiftler pointed at Wooj begrudgingly in his head, and began heading in that direction also. It was easy enough to catch up to the foursome when they were hobbling and keeping themselves upright through makeshift walking logs.

"You there!" Wooj barked at Willieth, causing the man to shudder and turn, facing him. His bloodied forehead and heavy bruising triggered the inner healer of the Spellslinger, directing recovery arts at the poor sod.

Greens and blues formed around her and sprinkled droplets and budding flowers around the wandering troupe. Willieth raised his arms and hands, stretching them high into the sky. "Nectar of life. You bless yourself so well." I'm regretting this already. Wooj thought, questioning the actions of this oddball in front of him, "Willieth. What's happened here? Are you able to recount the events that transpired? We have seen nothing but bodies, blood and broken land."

Willieth shuddered and cowered to the floor. Richie the roadie had to speak on his behalf. "Some brick-shithouse of a Felidhan called Kiki saved us from a Mandem horde that caught us while we pursued his red-haired love interest. They were being supported by some weirdo that didn't speak Maliterrian." "Penny the peasant continued to speak on behalf of the group after gaining some small courage. "The man. He was strong too, but not as strong as her. He would conjure hands in the air, from the ground; it seemed to be like some sort of art. One of the red hair's friends appeared, some assassin type with a rapier.

The cogs in Wooj's mind began to whirr. It was starting to sound as if he had just gained a lead. "Tell me about this red hair and assassin. You have caught my curiosity." "She is the fairest maiden a man could ever set eyes on… flowing, burning, charcoal-red hair, the whitest of knightly armours." Willieth proclaimed, staring into the distance with smouldering intensity.

"She spoke with the most awful accent, though." "Shut up, Petey, you peasant bastard! You dare mock my future wife!?" "Shut up, Willieth! Penny shouted and continued to speak out, "The assassin wore all black. He spoke in an unusual way too. Had leader-type energy about him."

Wooj remembered in the notes that his target had companions that matched these characteristics, and he followed up on this new information: "Say, did one of those companions wear a hat that covered ~" "Their entire body? "Yes," Richie interrupted rudely, but Wooj was smiling. Jackpot

"This is music to my ears. Say. Willieth… Would you be willing to make a deal with me?" "A deal? Wouldst thou seek thyself for meaningful duty?" "… Sure. I'm looking for a certain set of individuals, and I could use someone with a certain set of skills to get them." "I see." "Help me find these naughty little idiots, and I'll help rejoin you with the red-haired one." "You had me at red-haired, good sir."

The pair shook hands, smiling, thinking they each had the better deal than the other. "She was heading to Eccles Ville the last thing we overheard during the fighting," said Penny, dusting herself off from dirt.

"Then to Eccles Ville we go!" Wooj loudly spoke. Together, they began a quick march northwest, in the direction of the central region capital.

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