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[color=#D98719][B][SUP]A R C H A D I A -  E A S T E R N  A P P R O A C H[/SUP][/B][/color]
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[color=lightgray][indent][indent]Hands dragged bodies up the shore lest they be washed away with changing tides. Allowing whatever patrol that came to collect their dead. Adrenaline dampened and the Giant fell to slumber, allowing for reality to lurch back into place. Pain flared across the body distant yet discernible. He didn't think about it. He didn't think about the faces of the bodies that he dragged, how young they were. There wasn't time for that. To become consumed by the dead would only serve to draw his eyes from the living. There was still a mission ahead of them, there was still a task that needed completion. 

The mind did focus upon other more troubling aspects of that which had occurred and which would. Shyps don't fall out of the air without purpose. Corr was not a man of obtuse equations and obscure theorems, but he like the others had studied the mechanical diagrams. There were fail-safes and fail-safes built into those fail-safes to ensure skyward orientation. Yet there was no changing of whatever had occurred, the mind could wander upon thoughts of sabotage for hours if left alone. Focus instead came to what it meant moving forward. 

The crash had its own merits no matter how few they were. A distraction they set out to create and a distraction they had created. A Shyp falling into the canal was something that wasn't ignored. And once the squad that mustered upon the shore did not report in more and more Archadian forces would come. This was of course assuming that the infiltration team was worth all the trouble. In that regard Corr could only hope that Corbyn kept his team moving towards the objective. The only real downside was those that they had lost.

The smell of smoke filled lungs and nostrils as the Shyp began to burn out at sea. A burial of short muster for fallen comrades consumed by unfeeling waves. Promises of protection having fallen short upon the blades of chance. A slow exhalation of breath followed as hands brushed away at particles of sand. Cool water still dripped from hair and beard, a chill in the lonesome night. A slow pulse of greenish hue ebbed beneath the skin as unnatural processes combated the cold.  

Words spilled forth from somber lips. The tongue was old and broken in its countenance from a time when Gatrea was still young - spoken now only in temple. Among its few scant breeding grounds it swirled and reverberated with power. The old a tongue a chanting chorus doubling back upon itself with mystical reverence. Here on the lonesome beaches of Archadia it was a quiet and unrefined dirge gentle enough to get lost on the wind.   

[quote][i]Join us those whom have fallen

Join us in a final song

Join us those who fought as the sword to keep balance

Fear not that your sacrifice will go unforgotten

And may you find peace in Spirit's embrace.[/i][/quote]

Letting the words drift off into the night, Corr turned and followed his companions.

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Feet moved with aberrant silence through the foliage. A discordant mixture of life and death like most of Archadia. Life surged upwards towards a distant sun, nourishment provided from that which could not survive.  The air was still accented with salt and blood, the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore fading in the distance. Curious animal life flickered about eyes peering through the brush at the foreign entities which traversed the woods.

Corr's eyes flickered with every movement as he watched on alert. He was at the back of the group, leading up the rear is it were. Making sure that they did not have any unpleasant surprise pounce upon them. Yet from a cursory glance one might gather an air of calm.  Deep within he touched the whispering voice of the Giant, predatory senses alert. He was 'anchored' to this place and it anchored to him heightened sense beyond mortal reach.  He heard the cautionary grumble in the back of his head and looked up to see Carmen looking back at him. He give a simple thumbs up before turning his attention back to his watch.

As they moved forward focus fell upon Kain - a font of destruction which crackled with anger and flame. If Carmen was the Void than Kain was the furious breath of Creation. Yet Kain's thread was one which never rested, the tension ripping through it. The fires were useful when harnessed but when left unattended it would burn till death.

Corr placed a heavy hand upon the berserk's shoulder as they walked. When he spoke his voice was in direct contrast to his fellow commander one without sneer or hunger.

"I fear you are better than you think. But if you must insist, the funny thing about [i]hounds[/i] is their loyalty to the pack, they do not act in such ways to endanger the whole, lest they have to be put down." Corr explained pleasant despite the slight air of warning which came with it. He did not continue - no other words were needed. The man was not in the business of giving other people lectures but he was in the business of making sure what remained of his team made it out of this shitshow alive.

And then Corr stepped back withdrawing his hand and taking his position at the rear once more. Soon enough they came to a stop as Carmen hashed out the next stage of the plan. More fires it seemed was to be the way of approach. Rather than smoking them out it seemed they would be smoking them in.

"So we either split up or we stick together. We split up: more smoke across more locations make us look like a bigger force than we actually are. Stay together: we have a big old cloud to draw them in with. Matter of preference really, either way it should bring our friends running towards us rather than Corbyn's group."[/indent][/indent][/color]