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“We’re used to nearly being killed on a daily basis. It kind of goes with the territory with those guys. Just next time, please don’t try and crush my girlf-“ he stopped for a second thinking back to Lathilos’ comment earlier. “My partner with a copse of trees.” 

“I’m Marlowe.” He turned to his female companion. 

“Viera.” 

He turned back to the young girl. “And you are?” 

“I-My name is Azarnite Weaver.” 

“I take it The Order wanted something to do with you?” He stopped her before she could respond. “Actually, hold that thought.” He looked around. “I trust Lathilos, but I’m not a fan of hanging around in open spaces right now. We need to find somewhere a bit safer.” 

The girl seemed distant. Of course she would be. She’d just been chased around by three well-armed figures. And then she attempted to bring down the whole forest with whatever powers she held inside of her. It was sensible that she would be afraid. Hell, anyone would be afraid at this point. Of course, when he first met The Order, it wasn’t fear.

It was anger. 

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The church had been burnt to cinders. The smell of burning wood was mixed with a worse smell: burning flesh. The town was nearly emptied; those who weren’t in the church had hidden away in their homes. Terrified, unable to speak of what happened. Marlowe was still wandering by then, trying to understand exactly where he was. The journey to find home stopped that day. He found a new calling: preventing tragedies like that from ever happening again. That's what began the fire inside of him: the faces of the survivors stricken with terror and the bodies being pulled out of the rubble of the church. It was all too much for him to comprehend. Seven hells, he didn't [i]want[/i] to understand why they were killed that way. He only wanted justice for the dead.  

Two figures had been investigating as well. It didn’t take long for Marlowe to tag along with them, even if they saw him as nothing more than a civilian with a cracked mind. The two called themselves members of the Vann, a branch of the local government that sent out warriors to protect civilians and investigate crimes. Marlowe had never seen people like that before; crimes were under the branch of the magistrate. If they needed something done, you’d usually see a town guard sniffing around. These people…they traveled all over the swamp. 

But that’s how Dun was. It wasn’t a metropolitan area; it was the frontier. It took hardened and brave individuals to go the places the Vann did. Perhaps that’s why Marlowe followed them in the beginning. They were completely alien to him, but their ideals matched with his own. That was enough for him. 

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Marlowe looked the girl over. Physically she seemed fine. But the physical realm was only part of the body. “Are you from around here? Do you live in a village close by?”