[h1][color=indianred]Dane “Red Raider” Parish[/color][/h1]
[hr]
[indent][b][i]November 19, 1:18 AM
Northeastern proximity[/i][/b][/indent]
[color=indianred]“C’mon! C’mon, keep it movin'!”[/color]

The whole of the party hurried up the mountainside, guns raised and lanterns lighting the way. The Fifty-Eighters were definitely not the most commonly well prepared of the three hunter factions, but among all of them loomed this sense of natural camaraderie. The will and want to track and destroy man’s common enemy, enjoying themselves in the process, making up the vast majority of the everyman in Europe, serving as beacons of a righteous, humanitarian existence.

[color=indianred]“I said MOVE yer SHIT!”[/color]

Dane Parish was not a good example of this.

The party trudged over one last snowy hurdle, and Parish himself was the first to behold the sight ahead. A pause, and then he promptly announced, [color=indianred]“What… the [i]jammy fuck[/i]…”[/color] The leader and his men scanned the whole of Voldoa, assaulted with the notion that there was a city atop a mountain. Parish’s adjutant raised his rifle and scanned the interior of the city. “There’s…” He said, “There’s monsters in there… lots of them…”

[color=indianred]“Un-fuckin’-real…”[/color] Parish replied, stepping forward. The adjutant continued, “Dane, I think we should be smart about this. We don’t know how many are in there, we should have some of the men scout the place while the rest of us report to Maude.”

[color=indianred]“Yeah…”[/color] Dane replied, nodding. [color=indianred]“Yeah, that sounds pre-”[/color]

He was interrupted by the nearby watchtower ringing its bells, with the many others dotting the city quickly copying the action. The alarms had been set off.

[color=indianred]“SCRATCH THAT START SHOOTIN’.”[/color]

The men began to yell, raising their guns and running towards the city wall. Parish and his adjutant waved over a group of men hauling a load of explosives, sending them down to put them to good use. The adjutant followed them, but Dane stayed behind. As the last of his men passed him, he raised his rifle and propped up the magnifying lens, taking a look at the watchtower. Just think… a whole city of monsters…

His vision was quickly obscured by a figure rising up in front of him. Dane lowered his rifle and looked up at the tall, avian figure with the horrifying eyes.

None of his men heard his muffled panicking as he was taken away by the Lord of Owls.

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[h1][color=darksalmon]Amelia Morley[/color][/h1]
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[indent][b][i]November 19, 1:21 AM[/i][/b][/indent]
[h2][color=darksalmon]“Fifty-Eighters are attacking the northeastern proximity! Initiate protocols twelve and thirteen!”[/color][/h2]

[i][b]Protocol 12:[/b] All nearby Tier IIs and Flesh Golems must gravitate towards the hostile area and defend the city.
[b]Protocol 13:[/b] A dispatch unit of Tier IIIs from the Undercity will surround the attacking party and cover all conceivable routes of retreat.

No survivors must be left throughout the conduction of either protocol.[/i]