19th of Ash, Year 118
He was ill.
His feet were tired.
He had been wandering for far too long.
"Weren't the Adh Nuaihm supposed to be...?" he asked Elindra, the woman shrugging her shoulders. She had been sent to perform operations in Daravin, and he the Free Cities, stationed in Kalzasi. They went together, because it was safer than traveling alone. Rugged old Vendrael advised it, and Taelian had been keen - of late - on taking his advice. Somehow, it always appeared to work.
"They're obviously very secretive," the woman said, finally. She looked tired, hungry; both of them were out of breath. They had been walking for what must have been six hours straight. Even for Ebon Knights like them, cooped up in leather armor with Searing's heat still not having fully subsided, this amount of walking brought ire to the body. Taelian was not a particularly sweaty man, but he was sweating, and his skin began to itch.
It was humid. Silfanore needed a good four weeks of separation from Searing before the air was anything but drenched in moisture.
"Dranoch," Taelian warned. In the distance, half-obscured by a ruined building -- one man draped in crimson red attire, a misty white veil clear at the core of his irises. Beside him was a young, frail-looking woman whose mouth was open. She was visibly panting. Within seconds, her mouth opened much wider - unnaturally so - and she let out a crazed scream as she dug into whatever pile of flesh laid beyond the collapsed wall obstructing their view.
She was a new Botchling. That man must have either been the one who had created her, or a guiding mentor.
"Do we fight them?" Elindra asked. She drew her bow from her back; she was one of the few Ebon Knights to be successful as a long-range marksman, given the ability of the Dranoch to close in on their positions so easily. The woman was known for her skill in evasion, keeping distance, and being aware of her surroundings. Often, her enemies were not aware of her until they were immolated -- such as now.
"Yes," Taelian replied. "Shoot the red-cloaked man, Elindra. The woman is weaker than him. She's only recently born."
And she did, imbuing Flare into the head of her arrow. She shot with alacrity and accuracy, and by the time the man heard the arrow whistling and whirring, it was too close to him. He only managed to dodge enough for it to avoid his throat, though it still lodged deep into his shoulder, coming out of his body on the opposite end. With Flare imbued, the arrow burned a vast amount of his upper body in that single impact. He was grimacing and obviously terribly in pain, but the man was likely a Cardinal and so had great tenacity.
