Guts finds himself guarding the rear, feeling most comfortable with an eye on the oxen and the other Hires ahead of him. He seems calm enough with his role of lending a hand to anyone who might be lagging a bit behind, be it an ox driver or Hire finding the steep rocks a bit too slippery.
For the first time since arrival, he has also donned the black plate mail of the Berserker armor, though the added weight doesn't really impede his hike up the mountains much. For those with magical inclinations, it may be possible to sense that the artifact is cursed - an ominous thing that spells an ill fate for whoever wears it.
spooky monster preamble
In the middle of a particularly narrow pass, Guts stops and turns around, as if spotting something. A sharp pair of eyes may notice the rune on his neck, ordinarily a simple scar, is now seeping out a thin red line of blood.
His eye is fixed on the treeline of the hills behind them, perfectly still except for the sudden jerk of leaves in the distance.
"Something's coming."
aftermath
It could have been demons, or artillerymen, or a mix of them that turned the precarious line of supplies into a chaotic battlefield. A brief and terrible explosion of violence that leaves the caravan a mess, strewn apart by the latest attack they'd managed to fend off. A few oxen had been tossed off the cliffs (inevitable in the narrow strip they were attacked in) and it's now their task to try and get the survivors up and moving again.
In the midst of it all, Guts will approach one of the Hires with something in his hand that had been lost in the battle. Perhaps it was a lost weapon or ammunition dropped in the heat of the moment - he just recognizes it as having belonged to this particular individual.
no subject
Guts finds himself guarding the rear, feeling most comfortable with an eye on the oxen and the other Hires ahead of him. He seems calm enough with his role of lending a hand to anyone who might be lagging a bit behind, be it an ox driver or Hire finding the steep rocks a bit too slippery.
For the first time since arrival, he has also donned the black plate mail of the Berserker armor, though the added weight doesn't really impede his hike up the mountains much. For those with magical inclinations, it may be possible to sense that the artifact is cursed - an ominous thing that spells an ill fate for whoever wears it.
spooky monster preamble
In the middle of a particularly narrow pass, Guts stops and turns around, as if spotting something. A sharp pair of eyes may notice the rune on his neck, ordinarily a simple scar, is now seeping out a thin red line of blood.
His eye is fixed on the treeline of the hills behind them, perfectly still except for the sudden jerk of leaves in the distance.
"Something's coming."
aftermath
It could have been demons, or artillerymen, or a mix of them that turned the precarious line of supplies into a chaotic battlefield. A brief and terrible explosion of violence that leaves the caravan a mess, strewn apart by the latest attack they'd managed to fend off. A few oxen had been tossed off the cliffs (inevitable in the narrow strip they were attacked in) and it's now their task to try and get the survivors up and moving again.
In the midst of it all, Guts will approach one of the Hires with something in his hand that had been lost in the battle. Perhaps it was a lost weapon or ammunition dropped in the heat of the moment - he just recognizes it as having belonged to this particular individual.
"I believe this is yours."