Legacy of the Portal Heroes (IC)

[Wolfenium]

Cair Core
Like Bloody Hell If I Know When

"That's the gist of it," Yen concluded before the warrior woman decided to clear the space for her. As the green imps were kept away, she wasted no time bringing out her goods, biting a piece of flint in her mouth as she untied her rucksack. They were crude and olden, nothing more than an unlit torch and some circular, ceramic bulbs with stick handles. But she was hardly going to complain about using them despite the relative lack of destructive power they had compared to her fellow heroes.

No, everything counted at this juncture.

Lighting the torch with her flint, she quickly lit the fuse of one of her grenades, aiming for the bony gaps between the golem as she hurled the explosive towards it. Falling short, the grenade nonetheless blew apart the pack of gnoblars around it, their bodies splayed with fragments and flames as their ranks splintered around the blast. Lighting another, Yen tried again to wedge it in, only managing to knock it off its leg as it sprayed the surface with shrapnel. A third finally hit the mark, wedging itself between its femur-like web as it blasted a large cavity within. But damaged as it was, it appeared unfazed. She needed more firepower, and she did not have many hand grenades with her.

"If you haven't noticed," she spoke to the Hoa (Bao Rui), holding up another grenade as she racked her brains, "we have no main group right now. Those demons had effectively splintered us. We have no actual front line, and we'll have to aim for the head if we hope to survive."

But did she dare to ask?...

"Do we have anything strong enough to blast that bone giant's legs off," she asked, to no one in particular, "I don't think I'm crazy enough to go up close to wedge my bombs in its ankles."

[Endem]

Krystyn Mierzywojski
Cair Core

The help did not come, it was sad as Krystyn was slowly being overwhelmed at hits started to hit him, they were quite rare, but it was still a bad sign, he was pushed back more and more. The adrenaline rushed through his body, everything was going on so fast, he couldn't concentrate on one target and started to blindly slash at the enemies, then he saw some others doing good, they were at least two of them, it was his best option they were on the other side of the room, he needed to make a break for it and cleave through enemies to get there, so he started making himself a small corridor simultaneously swinging his saber at every side.

So many, so many, so many! Why there were so many of the little things, but he was cleaving through them getting near the two people, 20 meters, just 20 meters more and it will end, you will have allies by your side and won't be swarmed anymore, 10, 5, 4, 3, and Ogre, why an Ogre, it swung its mace at Krystyn, he avoided it and split the wood in half, the Ogre was now wielding more of a stick, Krystyn make another cut cutting right through Ogre's neck, now nothing was stopping him to join the two people, he got close to Modwenna and asked

"Waszmoscini, czy moglybm z wami tutaj ramie w ramie powalczyc"
( Madam, can I fight here with you as my ally )

Olaf Svarlsson
Cair Core

Olaf just couldn' t resist to not charge with that man, two great warriors fighting alongside, life gave him a chance and he will use it, he charged with Grog Nak cutting down anything that went near him, Ogre's, Gnoblars, limbs were flying everywhere and his Dane Axe was covered with Gnoblar blood. It was nothing Olaf experienced before, it was the best fight he was in since he was born, never-ending enemies to slay, the rush of adrenaline slowly drugged him into believing he was invincible then the Ogres started to charge at them. No! He shouted to Grog

"Fellow warrior, charge with me!"

And started to charge at the charging Ogres a Axe swing later one of them was decapitated, another axe swing and second me was lying in a puddle of his own blood, third swing, and Ogre didn't have an arm.

[Strala]

Liu Bao Rui
Cair Core

Was that another Chinese person leaping at a giant skeleton? WAIT what was she doing? Was she suicidal, that beast was not something a man or woman can take on. Only something as savage as it could like that primitive man also currently attacking that beast. He feared not for that primitive hulking man after seeing it tank on several arrows and spears without a care in the world. What was it that she was carrying on her? It seemed like something that one of his comrades had used. It was old without a doubt but when being hunted down and without a supply of new weapons you resort to anything you can find. He observed her while she ignited the wicks on the primitive explosives. They made a large cavity within the beast, yet it didn't care about the damage.

Then her voice reached him, and out came words that seemed to have made him realize how stupid he was. Oh, Oh, OH His face flushed red in embarrassment "Oh, I see what you mean." That explained why they were spread out. It seems that when the attack came, they hadn't prepared well for it.

Pulling out the four grenades that he still had persevered he handed them over. "Comrade do what you must with these items. I don't know how damaging they are to that beast, but it should at least damage the little green creatures." Now that the female warrior was closer to him she seemed less Chinese and more South Asian. By chance was she Vietnamese or somewhere near there? The Philippines seemed unlikely as they tended to look darker and spoke differently.

Would it be weird if he asked her this question right now? "Comrade if you don't mind me asking, where are you from and what is your name?" He hoped that it would not rub her in the wrong direction. He wasn't attracted to her. Not at all!

[Wolfenium]

Cair Core
Like Bloody Hell If I Know When
Võ Hoàng Yến

Peering at the hand grenades being offered by the Hoa, Yen wasted no time picking them up. The design appeared similar to her handmade explosives, but their uniformity and sophisticated design hinted at a level of production on a mass scale. Its fuse, presumably, was buried within, ignited only by pulling its string. It seemed a huge waste to use them all up, in case she needed to reproduce it, but she had to consider survival, first and foremost.

"Are you sure," she queried with a smile, "in that case, I'll put them to good use. I'll tell you if we survive."

If she ever suspected anything of his nervousness, the Viet appeared to have dismissed or shelved her own queries on it. Yanking the cord off the futuristic grenade, she managed to lob it deep within the golem's web of leg bones.This time, the blast was far more damaging, creating a gaping cavity within its structure. But was it enough? She had little idea. But a few more of her own grenades at it and its surrounded green mob was hurled for good measure, preferring not to use up the Hoa's goodwill at one go.

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Caire Core
Klaus Adler
"Ah! Amiens! My father served there in 1918 too!" Klaus said as he fired another burst with his STG-44, "You might have known him, Erkhart Adler? He was a Sergeant in the 27th Königlich Württembergische Division," Klaus bashed down a gnoblar with the butt of his STG-44, gunning it down while it was still on the ground. What was amazing was how much lighter the STG-44 felt in his hands, as well as seemingly having a greater damaging output as it devastated many gnoblars and their slightly larger brethren. "And that's the thing, this is not a rocket launcher," Klaus said, briefly gesturing to the Panzerfaust 150 on his back before dodging another gnoblar, tripping it, and crushing its neck with his boot, "It's a recoilless launcher, the only propulsion it should've had was gas! And yet it blasted into the air like a ficking rocket!"

"Where the hölle has Gott sent us?" Klaus said, "Oh, I haven't introduced myself, Hauptmann Klaus Adler of the Deutsches Heer of the Deutsches Wehrmacht, at your service," As Klaus continued to fire into the crowd of enemies, Klaus heard someone ask "Do we have anything strong enough to blast that bone giant's legs off,"

As Klaus turned and saw an Asian woman (who looked to be wearing some sort of traditional dress...strange) threw what looked like a Stielgranate at one of the Bone Giant's legs, causing minimal damage. Looking over his shoulder at the Panzerfaust strapped to his back and its pointed tip warhead made to penetrate through 320 mm of armour, Klaus thought that he might just fit the criteria she was looking for. "Pardon me freund," Klaus said to his fellow countryman as he ran towards the woman. Gunning down several gnoblars, one attempted to leap onto him, to which Klaus responded with pulling out his bayonet knife and slicing its throat, continuing on.

Another attempted to smack him with a crude club, which Klaus easily avoided and responded in kind by kicking it in the balls, and pulling out his P38 to shoot another one beside him who had attempted to sneak up on the German. Soon arriving at the Asian woman's side, who was accompanied by what looked like a Chinese Communist Soldier (ugh, Communists are here) (who himself looked quite infatuated, seems what they say about love on the battlefield was right), he stored his STG-44 and took out his Panzerfaust. "Need a bigger gun?" He asked her rhetorically, as he kneeled down and took aim, flipping up the iron sights.

"Abfeuern!" Klaus shouted as he pressed down on the ignition lever. Immediately the area filled with smoke as the force from the launching warhead was expelled from the back, the warhead launching as if like a rocket as fire spouted from its back (once again, still strange). The warhead smacked into the golem's foot, as a huge explosion occurred, seemingly shaking the area. The golem roared in pain and anger, as the smoke left revealing that its foot and a part of its lower leg appeared to have shattered or even disintegrated. Smiling to himself, Klaus was quite proud of his work until he saw the golem notice him in particular. It did not look happy.

"Uh, you can thank me later fraulein," Klaus said, standing back up, "But for now I think we should run!"

[Rupudska]

Cair Core

The golem fell, and as it did, Emer primed a pipe bomb ready to detonate, setting its sensitivity at a very dangerous level - the slightest touch, and it'd go off. At that sensitivity, it'd serve as a powerful (if primitive) impact grenade. With a rather unladylike roar, she threw it at the necrogolem's remaining leg, aiming for where its knee would most likely be when it caught itself on the ground.

She was off by a foot, but the force of the explosion hitting the lower femur was still impressive. What few windows were left in that part of the Portal Chamber shook or even shattered from the force of the expanding air, and nearby the ground itself shook. Not much of a surprise - it was meant to flip trucks while being buried under several inches of prime Cork dirt, and that took a good amount of energy to do. Bits of bone, gnoblar, donkey, and whole gnoblars and donkeys were sent flying all around the necrogolem, and over the roar of the explosion, an equally deafening roar could be heard from the golem itself.

When the dust cleared, the golem was now missing both legs and had fallen in a fetal position at the front of the chamber. Gnoblars and even the lone ogre left in front of it were running in a full rout. Neferure, who was still carving up gnoblars with nary a care, only noticed when she was nearly trampled by said ogre.

The maiden on the litter screeched something in the dark language again, and for a moment, it seemed like the necrogolem would get up. It certainly was still able to push itself up with its arms. But after only a second of further activity, a great crackling noise came from it, and whatever black magic was holding all those bones together failed and the whole golem collapsed into a messy heap. The maiden turned to the ogres and gnoblars surrounding her, still shouting in the same language, but whatever she was saying was ignored and they just kept running. When the ogre that had nearly trampled Neferure passed her, she gave up and ordered her litter to retreat with the rest of her troops.

The battle was over, and for now, Cair Core was safe.

Finnegan let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as he stepped out from behind a wall and started the slow process of repairing the most important damage - the roof, the windows, and the like. Aether came out as well, having stayed behind a different support beam after the Portal Heroes had forcibly unsurrounded her. She dusted herself off a bit as she returned to a place in front of the Portal where her voice could more easily carry.

"Well," she said, still breathing heavily, "now that that has been dealt with. I would have preferred to have been able to explain further about your situation here after the battle, but with the damage the necrogolem has done, it is clear I will likely be busy until evening."

Emer helped Neferure down from the pile of bones as she said this. Neferure nearly tripped on a tibia, but managed to catch herself without touching the ground in a relatively dignified manner. Claire came out from behind the portal and walked around so that she wasn't facing Queen Aether's backside.

"As a celebration of this victory, we shall have a feast this evening, where Finnegan and I will explain as much as we can."

"We will? Cleaning this mess will keep me busy for days!"

Aether shot him a Look before continuing. "I am afraid it will not be the best, as we have been unable to restock our food stores with anything but the basics for the past fortnight. But my chefs are among the best in the Corelands, and I hope what they prepare shall be to your liking."

She paused again, looking around at what everyone was wearing. Most were in purely functional clothing, though some were more functional than others, and others were more formal, in a way. Some had even managed to stay clean for the entire battle.

"There is plenty of time until the feast, and much to do, for all of us. If you wish to help in the cleanup, you may. The feast will be held at seven in the afternoon, however, and I expect you all to be cleaned and dressed suitably for the occasion."

Claire raised an eyebrow at this. "My dress blues were left in 2018, what am I supposed to wear?"

"We have dresses and tunics to spare for this; there should be at least one to fit each of you. If they do not, we have some tailors remaining. There is also a bathhouse for each gender on the ground floor, though I doubt it will be terribly warm until later this afternoon, as the fires were put out when the battle began."

Neferure and Claire seemed quite indifferent to the whole situation regarding their expected appearances, but Emer seemed less than pleased by the whole affair.

"Will that be all, Your Majesty?" asked Claire.

"Yes, that will be all for now. I will need to meet with my advisors as far as what to do next, but you are all free to do as you deem necessary until the time of the feast."

With that, Emer turned and started walking/cimbing around/over the bone pile, heading out past a gate Finnegan had left in the wall in order to look for anything outside that needed doing. Neferure followed her, out, but Claire stopped just outside the building and proceeded to climb a stairwell made of pegs on the side of the wall up to a small parapet.

The surroundings of Cair Core were, in a sense, idyllic - and mercifully rather unsuited to medieval invasion. The immediate surroundings was a tall hill, she estimated about two hundred and fifty meters in height with a gentle slope, and a river at the base where the 'forces of darkness' had come from and a few stragglers were still attempting to cross. Beyond this was a sea of numerous smaller hills with farmland and farmhouses in between them. Beyond the hills, they slowly rose into a line of purple mountains as high as those back home in Nevada, and split in three places by what could only be narrow passes. There were roads descending from the castle's hill that met in a wide path (and a wider stone bridge, heavily damaged) at the river, before branching out again and winding between the larger hills and over the smaller, gentler ones.

Below, she could see Emer and Neferure in two different places attempting to clear rubble and move abandoned siege engines off the roads without magic. No doubt that'd take a while until whatever wizards this magic bullshit land still had came to help.

She turned around, and saw that the hill actually leveled off into a large plateau, big enough for farmland and a small town with vaguely medieval French, English, and even a bit of German architecture, plus a few cathedral-like buildings near the castle itself. Beyond the plateau lay more hills and smaller plateaus, each a bit shorter than the last, and most of the larger ones with small towns and hamlets of their own, finally ending in a large lake whose far side she couldn't see even with the scope of her rifle adjusted for as high a magnification as it could manage.

After this bit of scouting, she climbed back down and decided to see if she couldn't help with clearing the cobblestone roads below.

[Endem]

Krystyn Mierzywojski
Cair Core

A feast, great idea! Krystyn started to like the style of ruling so far of this ruler. If they needed to be at least somewhat presentable he needed to get this armor of himself and a proper nobleman outfit. He found the nearest tailor and said to him what he needed to do when the tailor asked about parts of the outfit Krystyn wanted, he described it in as much detail as possible, he needed to wait a while and it took the tailor a long time but eventually he made a [url=outfit for a noble]https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/15/Stanislaw_Antoni_Szczuka_%281652_1654-1710%29.jpg/768px-Stanislaw_Antoni_Szczuka_%281652_1654-1710%29.jpg[/url], Krystyn twirled up his mustache, got his saber into its scabbard and tied it to himself, he was ready for the feast. But he had his sense of duty and thus he joined the effort to clean up

Olaf Svarlsson
Cair Core

It was a fight, oh boy it was a fight. Olaf didn't listen to Aether and went straight to the bathhouse, due to the times he lived in, he thought it wasn't his duty to help in the cleaning up. He undressed and went into one of the baths, where he sat in allowing the dust and blood from battle to wash away, it was relaxing. The water was not very hot, but Olaf was accustomed to very cold temperatures so it was just like every other day for him after battles, although he never battled Goblins, he did not expect that he would have to fight in Valhalla from the very beginning of his stay there.

[Monfrox]

Disc 1, Track 2 - Survivor Guilt
The fights were always over almost as soon as they had come, but this one had dragged on a bit. Rebecca finally took a breath and wiped the blood from her chin, looking around and finally taking stock of where she was. One thing was for sure, this wasn't Heaven or Hell with all the different warriors from different eras. Her mind had filed away Aether's words before the battle and she remembered something about being pulled from time or something. Still...she stepped out through a wrecked wall into the open.

"Warlord, this is Maiden. Do you copy?"

Nothing.

"Warlord, this is Maiden, do you copy..."

Still nothing.

There it was. She had always seen and heard about survivor's guilt, but even with that she couldn't help it now. Why her? Why her and not Perry? Perry... Joey Perry, "Tenor", earned his nickname by going into music at a young age due partly because of his name. Though instead of a guitar, he practiced with his voice in the men's choir. She remembered times he told her about performing at various halls and churches before deciding he didn't want to do that for a living.

Rebecca sighed and sat down. Her whole body felt heavy as she snapped her cans on her helmet off from her ears a bit and undid the chin strap. Slowly, she took it off her matted down head of blonde hair and put it on her knee. Maybe in a bit she would go help, but for now she had her hand over her eyes to hide the tears. She had lost a good friend and fellow Delta brother, and she wondered what made her special to get picked rather than he.

[Wolfenium]

Cair Core
Like Bloody Hell If I Know When
Võ Hoàng Yến

"I can't believe it," Yen blurted in astonishment, sinking onto the floor after she outran the collapsing bone giant, "we did it?"

It was a bit too surprising for her. She never held much hope at taking out the giant monster. For all the bombs she hurled at it, it never seemed to budge due to its sheer size and unholy magic. But Klaus' rocket and Emer's own makeshift stick bomb managed to take it down with a lot more explosive power. It almost made her disappointed that her own weapons were this ineffective. However, far from dampening her mood, she felt a bit excited. Imagine what she could learn from them, its formulas and mechanisms, and the violent amber plumes she can make out of them.

"Thanks," she spoke to Klaus, instinctively holding out Liu's grenades before she realized her error, "oh, sorry, these aren't yours, are they? Could have sworn a Chinese man gave me these. They looked a lot like yours."

Unknown to Yen, the grenades used by Liu were, in fact, German-based. A Chinese copy of the German Model 1924 Stielhandgranate, Liu's Type 23 was a local variant, with several minor changes from the original. Still, they were, by and large, similar. This also meant that there was, in fact, a much less serious shortage of these for Yen to inspect.

"Mind if I take a look at your grenade, maybe later," she asked with an eager smile, somehow putting the whole life and death situation behind her in frightening ease, "my name is Võ Hoàng Yến, soldier of General Lê Lợi' of Đại Việt. You are?"

---

Cair Core
Like Bloody Hell If I Know When
Rupert Brownlow and Menander

"I'm... I'm alive?..."

Rupert was shaken, far more than usual. Still froze in the same hunched posture as he held out the Celt's sword, the self-proclaimed engineer took a while to notice the quiet settling in, as the witch's hordes were scattered by the fall of their massive spawn. As he spotted a wounded gnoblar gargling and choking on its own blood, he hastily started stabbing its face in sheer panic. Without realizing it, he had sent its cold iron piercing its skull like a melon, a feat he had not been able to do on a real fruit with a knife before his departure.

Yanking out the blade as he staggered back, he tried to absorb what he had just done. He had killed a monster, all by himself. Sure, it was wounded, but it could have jumped on him if it had the chance. Then, in an unusual, if lame hail, he cheered, "I'M ALIVE! OH MY GOD! PRAISE THE GOOD LORD, I'M ALIVE! For a moment, I thought those green pigs had me, but I had the better of them! GH! NGH," he grunted, swinging the blade recklessly like a clown, "oh yes, better return this to that weird painted lady. Looks like one of those Highlander women up north. Sounds like one too. Never did catch the name."

Of course, there will, however, be plenty of introductions later, and want for explanations.

Yanking his arrow out of one of the gnoblar corpses, the silent Greek merely collected his munitions in a grim sulk. For a moment, he felt like he was once again being sucked into the euphoria of battle, though the urgency of the situation did make it a lot harder to enjoy the combat than usual. He could only admit it to be a good thing, lest he started picking off stragglers. But as he continued to track down his arrows, he found himself closer and closer to the gaping exit left by the bone golem. And soon, it began to dawn on him... He had been shooting stragglers...

'I know not if these things are created from pure evil, but I guess I should pray for their rest all the same,' he thought to himself, picking the last arrow as he proceeded back. With the hordes finally driven off, he could finally focus on the problem at hand, this Aether woman, and her desperate, if callous tearing of space-time to bring them all here...

[Sudbrazil]

Paul Müller Altendorf
Cair Core ~ morning, unknown date

---

He ripped a rag off one of the green creature's clothing, and cleaned his bayonet.

War would never abandon him, would it? Not even leaving his way would blood wash off his tunic and gunpowder smoke leave his lungs. He was doomed to be a warrior. What would happen if he died, would he go to heaven? If so, local heaven or Earth heaven? Were they different? Or perhaps, perhaps he would just wake up in the fields of France. All but the first option were good, to be fair.
At least the German was satisfied for now. He had plenty of time to clean his gear, sift through the wreckage for anything of value, and take a well-deserved bath. He unstrapped his heavy helmet and bended down to pick up one of the casings he had left behind, placing it in the steel shell. Brass was still useful for mechanical components, and perhaps could fetch him some penny. There was a well made dagger there, and a nice pendant there...

Hm. In the end, he wasn't so much different from his comrades that had stopped to eat and drink their loot.

✠

The burning corpses' stench rose to high heaven, as Altendorf threw the looted goblin corpse into one of the ‘funeral pyres’. He was relieved, as it was he last one near the portal room and cleanup crews would handle the rest of the mess in other sectors. After all, he had better things to do, like getting a hold of his surroundings and the people that occupied it. Hopefully, the local library could inform him about the matter layer, if there was a library, that is.
Paul found a tree that still stood amongst the ruins, and pitched up his zeltbahn into a tent. Claiming a bucket from the nearest well that hadn't been filled with rubble, he set about washing his gear from the blood of his enemies. The German man hoped that no man would come along to disturb him in his work, but at heart he knew that he needed with which to blow steam off, with whom he could talk about this madness.

[Riysa]

??????
Cair Core

With one final, extra loud explosion, the fighting ended. Max peaked out from behind a pillar, looking out onto the sea of death and destruction, scarcely believing or even processing what had happened. Among the dead, one of the green things laid among the rubble nearby, a big stone stuck in its head - the marauder from just a few moments ago, thankfully quite dead. He fixated on it, desperately trying to think. He had just been about to die? Had he really just...killed something? The adrenaline rush subsiding, he suddenly felt weak and very, very nauseous; he fought back the impulse to vomit, breathing in deeply through his nose.

He realized that he had been clenching his teeth this entire time; he slowly opened his jaw, rubbing it until the pain subsided. Seeing the others begin to crowd around, he stood up, brushing some dust off of his pilot's uniform. Thankfully, aside from that, it was pretty much as clean as it was when he had left the hotel. To his right was his flight back, also still in pristine condition. Good! He couldn't afford to replace anything, and he didn't even know how he could explain this to his employer...assuming he was still alive.

Well, was he?

Now up, he took the bag in hand and walked to where the girl named Aether stood. He threw back one last look at the scene of the former battle, shaking his head. What a mess. He listened as she discussed preparations for a feast with two ladies that seemed to have taken the lead, as well as stuff to do in the meantime. Bathing? A feast? Wait, wait, wait. He understood what she was saying, and it did sound nice, but all these things weren't adding up for him. He needed more information.

Now that that was over, it was time to get some answers. He walked over to the gnoblar he had brained, giving it a look over, especially focusing on the sword it was carrying. It was quite strange, almost alien looking - but not unfamiliar. It reminded him of a goblin, like the ones in fantasy movies or games. Breathing in, suppressing his fear for a moment, he swiftly kicked the sword, knocking it out of the gnoblar's hand. No response - it was truly dead. Gingerly, he picked it up, examining its design and make before setting it back down. It was pretty standard looking, but unquestionably real, and sharp. He shivered thinking about it.

Tired, he leaned against the opening of the wall, looking out onto the fields and buildings of Cair Core. Aside from the dead bodies, it looked calm, rustic, even peaceful, but the architecture didn't match any specific culture he knew other than simply "medieval". Damn, was it really all some fantasy land that he had landed in? No, no, that made no sense - you can't travel back in time! But, things were just getting stranger and stranger, the longer he thought about it...He rubbed his eyes. Dreaming? Goodness, he hoped so, but that encounter felt all too real. Dead? Well, if this was what the afterlife was supposed to be, it was certainly a strange and terrifying one. Again, hell? Or maybe purgatory?

Oh yes, he had his phone...right? Yes! It hadn't fallen out of his pocket during the battle. He turned it on; full battery still, and it reported morning time. It was morning in this place, but wasn't that Dubai time too though? Looking to his side, he saw another one of the people - the humans, that is - mulling about nearby. Maybe they'd have some more answers, and now was as good of a time as any to get to know who they were.

"Hey! What's your name?" He asked, partially out of interest, and partially to distract himself from thinking too hard about it all. "I'm Max."

[Wolfenium]

??????
Cair Core

-snip-

Cair Core
Like Bloody Hell If I Know When
Rupert Brownlow

Trying to wipe away the icky blood from his sleeve, Rupert took a bit of time to register the stranger's words. This one was different, a lot less... rugged than most of the characters that had showed up so far. Almost like himself, in fact, if the plain, spanking uniform is to show for. He did not appear to be a soldier, definitely. No, he had the look of a regular joe, and thank god for that.

"Oh, thank god, someone who isn't a trained killer," Rupert spoke gleefully, wiping his hand on his vest as he offered his shake, still clutching Modwenna blade, "good day to you, Max, my name is Rupert Brownlow. Thinker, inventor, entrepreneur! I just got off a spot of bother plunging into the Channel when I landed in this ghastly charnel house of imps, medieval fair reenactors and unusual costumed militants. If this were hell, and I don't personally doubt that right now, then I can see why the Devil deigned to make it a Welsh countryside. But I digress. What happened to you?"

[Riysa]

-snip-

Max returned the shake, an eyebrow cocked and a small grin on his face. He liked this guy already. "And a good day to you too, Rupert. My full name's Max Newport, Airbus pilot and four-holer aficionado."

"Yeah, this is just all way, way too strange for me - one moment I'm in the taxi, texting some people, but next thing I know I'm here. I think I got into an accident, maybe, on the way to Dubai International? Or maybe I just fell asleep, but this sure feels real. But I agree, with what we just went through, hell is definitely a possibility! Hah." Rolling his eyes, he continued. "Ugh, I hope I leave this nightmare soon...I've got to fly home soon, and a lotta people are going to be very upset if their flight's delayed because their pilot is late."

"Wait..." Max noticed Rupert's expression when he mentioned flight. Come to think of it too, Rupert was dressed awfully formally for 2012...

"Hey...Rupert...what's the current date?"

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

Max returned the shake, an eyebrow cocked and a small grin on his face. He liked this guy already. "And a good day to you too, Rupert. My full name's Max Newport, Airbus pilot and four-holer aficionado."

"Yeah, this is just all way, way too strange for me - one moment I'm in the taxi, texting some people, but next thing I know I'm here. I think I got into an accident, maybe, on the way to Dubai International? Or maybe I just fell asleep, but this sure feels real. But I agree, with what we just went through, hell is definitely a possibility! Hah." Rolling his eyes, he continued. "Ugh, I hope I leave this nightmare soon...I've got to fly home soon, and a lotta people are going to be very upset if their flight's delayed because their pilot is late."

"Wait..." Max noticed Rupert's expression when he mentioned flight. Come to think of it too, Rupert was dressed awfully formally for 2012...

"Hey...Rupert...what's the current date?"

"Date," Rupert went, scratching his head, "like bloody hell if I know. This isn't exactly Earth, if what that young lady claim is true. But for me, it was June 15th, 1889 of the Year of the Lord. Since I can't tell what an air-bus is besides its basic meaning, I have to say you're probably a tad ahead of me in time. Come to think of it, I've never gotten more than one in a single day. Golf isn't something I spend a particular amount of time training in."

Rupert, of course, was quite off the mark with the 'air-bus', but not everything was beyond his understanding. The future man had some sort of message-delivering device while on a cab, and got into an accident on the way to a location in Dubai, part of the Trucial States in his time. It reminded him of the great Empire men again, great travellers who venture into the far-flung reaches of the British Empire. But he preferred not to jump to conclusions just yet. The future was not something he can predict, and it would not hurt to clarify with Max later on.

[Bentus]

Modwenna MacAilig
Cair Core

---

The sound of the massive explosion was swiftly followed by the deep, unnatural cry of the skeletal golem. Shards of bone and dust seemed to rain down on the chaotic battle from above as the titanic create wavered on its fractured limbs before eventually beginning its long, inevitable fall towards the unforgiving ground. A few of the smaller green beasts let out surprised shrieks as they desperately tried to escape from the impact zone, with a few failing to move in time and ending up crushed beneath their slaughtered ally. The earth seemed to shake as the towering figure slammed into the ground, shaking what walls were still standing and nearly knocking Modwenna off her feet as she continued to trade blows with whatever foe drew too close to her blade. But the defeat of the golem signalled the end of the conflict as the once unending onslaught first began to waver and then retreat like a tide rushing back out to sea.

Pausing for a moment in surprise, Modwenna was caught off-guard by the sudden collapse in the enemy’s ranks. The creatures’ eagerness for battle appeared to have evaporated in an instant, and as one turned to run, its fellows seemed to be encouraged to follow suit until the fight devolved into a rout. Inhuman shrieks and cries replaced the sound of clashing steel as what remained of the hostile army turned tail back towards its distant commander. Narrowing her gaze towards the feminine figure, Modwenna could just make out the woman’s frantic gestures as she called out in her strange language, furiously trying to redirect her fleeing warriors while trying to avoid being crushed in the backwards rush. Eventually, the fae witch seemed to accept the futility of her efforts and turned to leave the scene herself. Gritting her teeth, Modwenna felt an anger rising in her chest as the opportunity to kill the enemy commander seemed to escape them. Twirling her remaining sword in her hand, the blue-painted warrior let her frustration out with a cry as she flung the blade into the retreating mass. The steel flew forward with surprising speed, but found its target with a practiced ease as it embedded itself hilt-deep into the skull of a goblar. The light in the creature’s eyes vanished immediately as its expression became permanently frozen in one of surprise, its body tripping over before sliding face-down across the ruined building’s floor.

And then, a quiet began to return to battlefield. Or at least a more reasonable approximation of it as the sounds of combat and death dissipated into the distance alongside the invading army. Modwenna continued to stand where she was, glaring at the retreating figures while her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. She could feel the fire burning in her limbs from the rapid, relentless exertion of combat now that the adrenalin was slowly draining from her veins, her mind clearing as the immediate demands of survival could be put to one side. Slowly, the fae Queen and her Sorcerer emerged from whatever hole they had been cowering behind and approached the victorious warriors, praising their efforts and inviting them all to a feast that was supposedly to be held in their honour. Modwenna appraised the Queen with a look of suspicion, although the young woman showed no indication that she noticed the hostile glare. Letting out a resigned sigh as the young woman left to attend to other duties, the Pict turned to look at her surroundings in a fresh light now that she wasn’t being forced to fight for her life.

Despite the devastation wrought by the attacking army, it appeared that most of the city was still intact. Beyond a narrow path of damaged structures and rubble, Modwenna saw that most of the impressive buildings remained intact, and that some of them seemed to tower impressively into the sky. The roads also all seemed to be paved with stone, while a sizable wall - albeit one with a gaping hole - encompassed the settlement. It was a far cry from home, and Modwenna couldn’t help but frown at the eerily foreign landscape. That’s because I’m nowhere near to home, am I? Pushing the thought from her mind, she began to walk to where her last kill lay motionless in the ground. Reaching for the hilt of her blade, she pulled it effortlessly from the creature’s bulbous head, a weak trickle of blood immediately beginning to stream from the gaping wound that she left behind. Glancing up, Modwenna saw another warrior going about the corpses nearby. He had a dark complexion, and he moved among the bodies with the ease of one used to battle, salvaging what arrows he could.

Studying the skirmisher for a moment, Modwenna recalled that he had been with the Oriental woman during the battle, and had definitely displayed a prowess with his bow. But there was a distant look in his eyes that caused her eyes to linger. It was a gaze that she had seen before, an emotional fatigue that was greater than any physical exhaustion that followed on from a battle, and one that she had learned to ignore.

“Oi.” She called out, trying to grab the man’s attention as she gestured with her blade towards the body at her feet. “Any of them that we allowed to live would simply have been another enemy we would have had to fight later. Their decision to run when they started to lose doesn’t mean that we had any responsibility to hesitate or hold back.” Modwenna spoke plainly and bluntly, if with a degree of empathy for the other warrior.

"I'M ALIVE! OH MY GOD! PRAISE THE GOOD LORD, I'M ALIVE!”

Modwenna winced at the sudden screaming, turning to scowl at the source of the sudden outburst to see the man she had helped earlier practically leaping in excitement. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as she watched him swing her sword around like some child with a stick. What is this man? Must he insist on embarrassing himself in such a public fashion? He seemed to spark a conversation with another one of - what had the fae called them - the heroes? Both of them hadn’t been heavily involved in the fighting, and Modwenna wondered what world they must have hailed from in order to be considered ‘warriors’. Making her way over to where they were conversing, she wore a glare stern enough to fell a deer before she extended a firm hand out towards Rupert.

“Give it here. Before you bloody poke someone’s eye out with it.” She demanded, accentuating her point by bending her fingers in and out of her palm. Pausing, her expression seemed to soften a bit as she studied both of the strange looking figures. Modwenna had heard a few words of their conversation, and she couldn’t truly ignore the nagging questions in the back of her own mind. “Is it true what she said? That we’re all from different times?” She hesitated. “Do either of you know about my time, if we defeated the Romans?”

[Wolfenium]

Modwenna MacAilig
Cair Core

---

Despite the devastation wrought by the attacking army, it appeared that most of the city was still intact. Beyond a narrow path of damaged structures and rubble, Modwenna saw that most of the impressive buildings remained intact, and that some of them seemed to tower impressively into the sky. The roads also all seemed to be paved with stone, while a sizable wall - albeit one with a gaping hole - encompassed the settlement. It was a far cry from home, and Modwenna couldn’t help but frown at the eerily foreign landscape. That’s because I’m nowhere near to home, am I? Pushing the thought from her mind, she began to walk to where her last kill lay motionless in the ground. Reaching for the hilt of her blade, she pulled it effortlessly from the creature’s bulbous head, a weak trickle of blood immediately beginning to stream from the gaping wound that she left behind. Glancing up, Modwenna saw another warrior going about the corpses nearby. He had a dark complexion, and he moved among the bodies with the ease of one used to battle, salvaging what arrows he could.

Studying the skirmisher for a moment, Modwenna recalled that he had been with the Oriental woman during the battle, and had definitely displayed a prowess with his bow. But there was a distant look in his eyes that caused her eyes to linger. It was a gaze that she had seen before, an emotional fatigue that was greater than any physical exhaustion that followed on from a battle, and one that she had learned to ignore.

“Oi.” She called out, trying to grab the man’s attention as she gestured with her blade towards the body at her feet. “Any of them that we allowed to live would simply have been another enemy we would have had to fight later. Their decision to run when they started to lose doesn’t mean that we had any responsibility to hesitate or hold back.” Modwenna spoke plainly and bluntly, if with a degree of empathy for the other warrior.

Menander merely stared when he saw the painted lady address him. By this point, pretty much nothing seemed to surprise him anymore. Among the clustered menagerie of pale-skinned Northerners that made up the vast majority, Modwenna at least resembled someone from his time. He had scant knowledge of the barbarians who live beyond the civilized world of the Greeks, but there were some, the Celtic Galatians, who settled within and had been in close contact with the kingdoms of the Diadochoi.

"I know," he said plainly, cleaning his arrows with his sleeve as he packed them in his quiver. For a barbarian to tell him the obvious would have outraged any other man, but Menander was too weary and overwhelmed by now. He would much rather not share anything snide that would pull him into an unwanted fight.

"I'M ALIVE! OH MY GOD! PRAISE THE GOOD LORD, I'M ALIVE!”

Modwenna winced at the sudden screaming, turning to scowl at the source of the sudden outburst to see the man she had helped earlier practically leaping in excitement. She rolled her eyes in exasperation as she watched him swing her sword around like some child with a stick. What is this man? Must he insist on embarrassing himself in such a public fashion? He seemed to spark a conversation with another one of - what had the fae called them - the heroes? Both of them hadn’t been heavily involved in the fighting, and Modwenna wondered what world they must have hailed from in order to be considered ‘warriors’. Making her way over to where they were conversing, she wore a glare stern enough to fell a deer before she extended a firm hand out towards Rupert.

“Give it here. Before you bloody poke someone’s eye out with it.” She demanded, accentuating her point by bending her fingers in and out of her palm. Pausing, her expression seemed to soften a bit as she studied both of the strange looking figures. Modwenna had heard a few words of their conversation, and she couldn’t truly ignore the nagging questions in the back of her own mind. “Is it true what she said? That we’re all from different times?” She hesitated. “Do either of you know about my time, if we defeated the Romans?”

"Ah, my lady," blurted the surprised lad, jumping at the Pict's appearance as he fumbled to return her sword, "aight, here. It was... useful, I suppose. Much prefer a revolver, but you take what you can get."

With the chaos of battle cleared, Rupert was finally able to get a better look of the she-male scowling at him. Truth be told, history was not his strongest point. He was never really too interested in the past, save for such siege works as the ballistae of Antiquity or the fantastical designs of Leonardo da Vinci. But even he could tell she was a Celt, likely one of the Pictish tribes who resided north of Roman Britannia. Watching her contempt fade when she asked for knowledge on Roman Britain, in particular, her people's future, he realized the implications of her presence here, and with most other soldiers and warriors through time.

"Umm..." he went, dropping his grandiose persona for a moment as he pondered over what to say. He felt a strange gravity in his words, unable to bring himself to flaunt his scant knowledge at someone who, very likely, died fighting said Romans. In any case, any of the other people, even Max, could have filled the gap for her. Besides, it would have been in very bad faith for him to parade her fears for her clan's survival.

"I don't know," he admitted in a serious, even somber tone, "at least, I don't know the details. By the looks of your attire and the blue paint, I assume you're a Pict. If I have to summarize, however, I would say the Romans never conquered Caledonia. I don't know if the Romans lost that one battle you and your tribe were in before you came here, but I can definitely say your people as a whole survived, at least long enough to outlast the Romans in Britannia. Anything after that will be a very long story. It's been over one-and-a-half millenia between your time and mine, maybe even longer for others. Things have changed a lot since. I'm sorry."

Bowing his head, he half-expected the woman to break his teeth with her fist. He could sense it was not the answer she was looking for, but to research on the individual battles between the Celtic tribes of Scotland and the Romans would have required accessing the London archives, archives he could no longer visit in his present state. As such, he really did not know if Modwenna's particular tribe would see a future after her. All he knew was the general details, information that even he felt was a tad too optimistic.

[Wolfenium]

However, before the group could continue their chatter, a low cough from the sage cut in, stating, "well.. if you're done with your business here, I suppose it's high time we get to celebrations. I'm sure you're all eager to clean up and all that. I can't guarantee we'll be able to offer much as thanks, what with the siege and all, but consider it our sincerest gratitude."

"well, of course, of course," Rupert blurted, making an inspection of his severely soiled clothes as he went back to his usual banter, "a change of clothes will do nicely, although I do suspect a good supply of Indian cotton is a bit too much to ask. Regardless, on to the feast! I dare say, I'm kind of famished after that harrowing near-death experience!"

And with that, the heroes' first battle was over, and the questions had only just begun to surface.

---

Cair Core
Day 1, Later

For a city that had been under siege, the unusually large spread of the banquet seem to suggest anything from blind decadence, a genuine declaration of gratitude or a desperate plea for help. At the very least, the food seems recognizable, from large game dishes to normal meat and poultry roasts. Perhaps the 'chicken' appeared a bit too big, and the fruit bowl had become resident to some very odd-looking produce. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary so far, at least for one spritely figure dressed in bright get-up like a jester.

"By Jove, you people shouldn't have," chimed the preppy inventor, marching in animatedly with a wide grin on his face, his face sparkling with excitement and cleanliness, "that's quite the spread for such humble figures like ourselves. I thought you were under siege! Wouldn't this be a bit... I don't know?... Suspicious?"

For someone who had just nearly gotten killed twice, Rupert seemed too quick to put all his worries aside. A relaxing warm bath in the vast bath halls was all too heavenly as it is, never mind that he had to share it with all the men willing to get the grime off their bodies. He was even willing to overlook how scrawny he was in comparison, or the missed chance to sneak a peek at the opposite ladies' bath. Of course, the latter would have easily been a huge mistake, and he was not one to take those kinds of risks.

"I-It's fine, Sir," blurted one of the aides, a nervous-looking redhead in a dark Gothic dress, "it's just a small token of gratitude."

"Small," Rupert declared with a beaming tone, unwittingly startling the poor girl, "you call this 'small'!? It's huge! It's lavish! Sure, there's like a dozen or more of us here, one of whom looks like he hasn't finished the chain of evolution to full homo sapiens, but I wouldn't call this 'small'!"

"He has a point," another spoke behind him, "though I doubt the opulence is a bother to you, Mister."

Peering at him with a dull glare as he stepped in, Menander seemed a bit disturbed by the spread. He had not eaten meat in years, not since he sought out the teachings of the Buddha to calm his troubled mind. To see this much, especially with a city that had been battered by an unholy invasion... it was hard not to think the common folk might take this as an affront. Surely, such self-proclaimed heroes like themselves should have refused the honour, or at least requested for something less grand. But judging from the glee and ego displayed by his fellow, he had a feeling such attempts to persuade the other heroes to abstain would be futile.

"I don't think there's any point worrying about this right now," Yen cut in, entering the hall with an elegant red dress as they settled down, "there's no harm enjoying ourselves for a bit. We saved their lives after all. It'll be awkward for them if we refused their reward."

"That's not what I-" the hapless Indo-Greek tried to protest, still quite apprehensive about the extravagance in such dire times. But his words falling on deaf ears, the hapless lad could only cover his face in relent, settling beside Yen as he tried to keep his eyes away from the aromatic meat. As for Rupert, his mind was already ticking away, his hand on his chin in thought as he began to deduce the order of his dishes.

As the remaining guests settle in, Aether herself sat on her own table facing the rest of the hall, her aide returning by her side as she thought over her words. The grim, suspicious faces from both her own vassals said it all. Where was she going to get the land to compensate these strangers? Sure, many of the feudal houses that ruled over the rest of the Corelands have either died out or turned traitor for the Dark Empire, but many others were still around, holed up in her last stronghold with every expectation of regaining their domains once they drive back the vile Dark Lord's armies. Perhaps if they had been more willing to fight the black hosts rather than each other, this would not have become such a serious issue. But they needed help desperately, and come what may, she would settle the blowback herself.

"To our honoured guests, heroes from across time and space, I fear I am not worthy to thank you for your tremendous efforts," Aether spoke standing, facing the hall in her usual regal persona, "too much has been lost before you came, and I will admit my selfishness in summoning you here. And in all honesty, I have no right to dictate you to join us in our fight against the darkness. But you have seen for yourself what the Dark Lord has done, and what he intends to do to our world. I won't demand your fealty or your compliance. I only ask that you help us in our time of need.

But before that, I do have one request. I request that you eat, and enjoy ourselves. Consider this our humble reward for your efforts this day. If you have anything to ask, feel free to speak to me or my aides. I'll try to answer as earnestly as possible."

And with that, the feast began, with soft lute music playing in the background and entertainers brought to the fore. Unsurprisingly, the 'jester' at the table was too quick to start, picking off large slices of roast beef and pork like a ravenous dog. Menander, however, struggled through his fruit, a drop of sweat dripping from his forehead as he resisted the urge to devour. Yen was, to say the least, a bit uncomfortable with the strange spread, from the lack of rice to the gaudy outfit she wore. But given how much of a mess her Ao Dai had become, she simply took her inconvenience in her stride.

[Bentus]

Modwenna MacAilig
Cair Core

---

“And this one’s your room, ma’am. Queen Aether told us to prepare it for you as best we could.” Stepping aside, the female servant opened the door in front of Modwenna to reveal a modestly sized room that seemed inordinately spacious to the Caledonian.

As the warrior stepped forward without even a sideways glance, her host cast a wary glance towards the strange figure from another world. Having witnessed the devastation that the Portal Heroes had wrought amidst the demon lord’s forces, she couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and apprehension in their presence. Some of them were wearing clothes that seemed mysterious and alien to her eyes, while others still wielded futuristic weapons the likes of which she couldn’t have even imagined. They truly appeared like the mythical figures of legends that had been summoned to save them, but Modwenna - still coated in grime, paint and blood - looked unnervingly more familiar. From her ferociousness in battle to her fur clothes, she looked more like a wild barbarian than a hero. She reminded the serving girl of the roving tribes that had harassed traders and merchants on the fringes of civilisation, not an inspiring tale of legend.

Blinking, the maid realised that she had been distracted by her own thoughts. Glancing up, she felt the colour drain from her face as she realised that the barbarian woman had been watching her silently. Modwenna’s expression didn’t give anything away as she watched the girl squirm uneasily under her gaze.

“I - uh - I hope the room is to your liking ma’am.” She tried to force a smile on her face despite her fear, but the effort seemed to be lost on the Caledonian. Swallowing, the servant tried not to look at the dried blood that spotted the other woman’s clothes. “The baths are located d-downstairs for your convenience.” Averting her eyes, she offered Modwenna a hasty curtsey before turning and half-running out of the room.

As the door was slammed shut, Modwenna was left standing alone in silence. Letting out a sigh, she allowed her shoulders to finally relax as she lowered her guard. Stepping further into the room, she couldn’t help but feel out of place amidst all the ornate furnishings. Just this room was as large as the entirety of her family’s straw and stone house back in their village, and the lavish bed could have fit them all. Frowning, Modwenna tilted her head curiously as she spied the change of clothes that had been laid out for her on the sheets. Stepping over to her bedside, she hoisted the dress in order to appraise it for herself. Studying the fabric, she couldn’t deny that it looked beautiful, with the gold colour of its trim looking as if someone had weaved the precious metal directly into the cloth - although the Caledonian couldn’t help but find the whole thing gaudy and impractical. Looking back at her bed, Modwenna raised an eyebrow as she saw that separate pieces of attire and jewelry had similarly been left - most likely with the expectation that she would wear them to the feast.

Hesitating for a moment, she was half-tempted to simply ignore the so-called Queen’s request - if only to spite her and the rest of the fae. Despite the opulent accommodation and the kind words, Modwenna didn’t trust Aether or her mage, and she suspected that they may have been as much prisoners as allies in this land. But making a scene or displaying too much defiance wouldn’t gain her anything, especially when she still knew so little about her situation. With a resigned sigh, Modwenna rolled her eyes as she slung the dress over her shoulder. Swiping a few of the trinkets that caught her eye, she turned to make her way towards the baths.

---

Taking her seat at the table, Modwenna remained silent as the Queen calmly addressed the gathered crowd. Even though she was listening, the Caledonian’s attention was primarily focused on the feast laid out before her. The spread competed with even the great gatherings of the Kings and Chiefs, and the woman’s stomach growled as her hunger from the past few days finally made itself known. As Aether continued to speak, Modwenna seemed to pay not attention to any cultural expectation to wait before eating and greedily began to pile up pieces of meat and fruit onto her plate.

Surprised at how famished she suddenly felt, she was about to dig in to her meal with both hands when she noticed that her dress’ sleeves were dangling dangerously close to her plate. Rolling her eyes at the impracticality of what the women of this world seemed to wear, Modwenna casually rolled up the elegant sleeves to expose the tattoos that stretched from the back of her hands all the way up her arms before vanishing beneath the fabric. As she feasted, she nearly stopped in surprise as the Queen revealed that she didn’t expect any of them to offer her their fealty. Frowning in confusion, Modwenna studied the fae’s features in cautious suspicion. It didn’t make sense for a ruler to take such a risk, granting her followers power and armies before setting them free from any duty or alliance. Unless of course the situation in this war was worse even than Modwenna had first thought.

[Endem]

Krystyn Mierzywojski
Cair Core
That is no way to eat lady

Taking a sip from his cup he couldn't notice the almost brutish way the woman that was seated next to him eaten. He spoke to her

"I'm sorry lady, but this is no way to eat"

While his way of eating wasn't one we would consider as, normal, by modern day standards it was nonetheless something that actually used forks... And for the food for him, it didn't really matter, he was used to poor military meals so it might have even been an improvement for him.

Olaf Svarlsson
Cair Core
Wine and Meat

When he was done bathing it was already time for the feast, he didn't dress up any fancy like, just took off his chainmail and helmet leaving them by the side of the table and his Dane Axe leaning on the table, it's bloodied end directly on it. He grabbed as much wine as he could have and as much meat as he could stuff on his plate and started to eat.

[Monfrox]

Master Sergeant Rebecca "Maiden" Shields
Special Forces Operator Detachment - Delta
Advanced Force Operations Team "Outlaw"
Cair Core

Rebecca had been through as much as everyone else, but to be called and treated as a hero left a bad taste in her mouth. Perhaps the older and more ancient generations of warriors felt more at home, but she was not. She lived in modern times, and as most soldiers in that situation will tell you, you never considered yourself a "hero". To you, the heroes were the ones who gave their lives for others, not the ones who lived through it. She recalled on such discussion at the annual "Lunch Bunch" gathering of the 101st Airborne. When one of the vets was told he was a hero his response was "I ain't no fuckin' hero, don't you ever fuckin' call me that". The title of hero was given, but not well received, even if it was giving credit where credit was due. But sometimes someone doesn't want to be called a hero, even if they charged through so many yards of open field, heading straight at a German emplaced MG position, firing a submachine gun from the hip the whole way there until they reached it and took it out.

That was the rub right now. Rebecca didn't want to be a hero. She didn't ask to be a hero. No one did, really. She would've rather died in that hut. But did she mean that? She wasn't sure. It was a long few days and nights, and it was catching up to her. She watched as everyone else filed in and took their seats, but she didn't. For in such an area and time as this, the very real threat of a counterattack existed. But that still didn't change how tired she was. She choose a spot on the wall next to the door, a corner from where if needed, she wouldn't have to look far to see what was going on. Her arms were crossed over her plate carrier and resting on top of the butt of the stock of her Mk18. She leaned back with one leg locked. If there was any skill to master in the Army outside of the battlefield, it was how to sleep literally anywhere at anytime. And so Rebecca fell asleep standing up in the corner for however long she'd need to be.

[Bentus]

Modwenna MacAilig
Cair Core

---

Pausing right as she made to take another bite from her leg of poultry, it took Modwenna a moment to realise that Krystyn was addressing her. Not responding immediately, she studied the strangely dressed man with a slight air of suspicion. She recognised him from the earlier battle, recalling that he had been one of the others who had been pulled from their own time like she was. If nothing else, that fact alone means he’s the closest thing I have to an ally in this place. Swallowing a mouthful of chewed food, Modwenna rolled her eyes at his criticism.

“Holding back from a feast is the greatest insult you can level at your host.” She answered simply, raising an eyebrow as she saw the fork being held in the other warrior’s hand. It wasn’t a foreign object to her, but she was surprised to see him using cutlery while picking at the meat on all the bones before them. “I have two perfectly good hands, anyway. And it’s impossible to get to all the best meat with a knife and fork, so why should I bother?”

Putting down the leg, Modwenna wiped her hands on the silk napkin that had been left by her plate. After she tossed the cloth into an inelegant heap on the table, she reached out with a hand towards Krystyn.

“My name is Modwenna MacAilig, of Caledonia. It seems like we’re both going to be stuck here for a while, so we may as well get to know one another.” Glancing over the man’s attire and the unrecognisable crest on his shoulder, the Pict couldn’t help but feel curious. “You’re also not from my own time, are you?”