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Zell sighed as he watched the orange, lightly clouded sky.  The crackling logs, the clean air tinged with cooking fish and tobacco smoke.  The warm, gentle breeze.  A group of men and women, strangers sure, but bonded with mystery and a near-death heroic experience.  It was actually kinda nice.

Behind this layer of face-value satisfaction was thoughts about a future battle.  Whether or not they'd be so lucky next time.  What they'd be facing off against.  And also what it meant to be an adventurer.  What Peter and Paul had told him about people who bore the Gift of the Source Crystal.  It was all a lot to take in, but Zell had used the hours spent travelling to sort and process the information.

And then, under all of that, deep in his mind.  What was his sister doing right now?  His father's joke that, 'That boy will never come back from university,' as his parents recieved news that he'd failed another year.  [i]How right you were, Dad.[/i]  His mother crying at his funeral.  Everyone - he'd never get to see them again, or even hear how they were doing.

Keep it buried.  Deal with it another time, maybe.  Occupy yourself with The Now.

When Fenna and MacKensie were back in camp, Zell decided to speak up about this Formation business.  It was getting dark and who knew if they'd get attacked in the night.  Best to put everyone on the same page now, and not regret giving his team mates crucial information when he had the chance.  But how to do it?  Well, in a group full of strangers with no leader, a polite and considerate person might tip-toe and appease, ask and assure.  Zell however... he'd do this the only way he knew how.

"Alright guys, listen up," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.  "I've got something important to show you.  Might be the difference between life and death as an adventurer, so gather round."

He started drawing in the dirt, a series of shapes as he explained.  "Teams like ours - or Adventurer Parties, as they're referred to in this world - use party formations to keep themselves safe in difficult battles, and to get the best out of each member of the group.  Until we learn more about our own abilities and how best to fight as one, this is the formation we will be using."

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"Joji, Clive, Arthur, myself..." he looked at the men in question.  "The weapon-handlers.  Melee class.  The frontline.  The muscle.  The meatheads," the last bit he added a grin, then pointed at the half-circle.  "We position oursleves around this arc.  Our job is to protect the magic-users and the rangers.  To give them space cast and fire.  Arthur and Clive at the front.  Joji and I on either flank.  We keep ourselves in between the enemy and the rest of the group, and they have our backs."

He pointed at the triangle.  "Lillianna, Adam, James.  You guys need to be here."  Then he pointed at the X's.  "Fenna, MacKensie, you position yourselves on either side of our wizards.  As Rangers, you can shoot too, but your speed and melee weapons mean you can take a bit of contact, defend yourselves and the magic users should any enemies get through our formation."

"Our most important piece of this formation is our Cleric:  James," he grinned at James, knowing this might make him uncomfortable.  "James is the only one who can use healing magic, which makes him key to all of us surviving battles.  And perhaps more importantly; he's proven himself a capable leader in battle.  He has a voice loud and strong enough that even hardened soldiers will listen to.  And he has the level-headedness and wits and make good tactical decisions in middle of a chaotic battle." Zell pointed at the traingle again.  "Here James can see everyone and everything, we can all hear him and he can make adjustments to our focus or our direction mid-battle."

Zell made sure he met the eyes of each of his teammates as he talked.  There was no uncertainty in his voice as he spoke, and he didn't rush his words, nor lag.

"It's kinda like football.  When the other team has possession, the front line has to press as a unit, to protect the midfield, where lie the technical players, the smart ones who make the magic happen - no pun intended.  And then you have the Wingers - the Rangers - using the space of the flanks to maximise their speed and agility, and make critical incisive moves into enemy territory, turning defense into attack in the blink of an eye."

Anyway...

"That's the formation.  It should carry us through a tough battle until we can learn more.  These aren't strict positions - you don't have to stand in that one spot.  Battles are fluid and dynamic.  It's just a rough idea of where we should be to protect eachother, with the formation pointing towards wherever the enemy has the most numbers.  Memorize your position.  Memorize everyone elses.  Teamwork makes the dreamwork," he finished.  "Alright, enough."

And he was done.  If there were any questions, he would answer them, or reiterate any points again to make them clear.  But he didn't make an effort to check if anyone had questions, nor did he look like he cared.  If no one said anything, he would go back to his admiration of the sunset sky and wait for dinner to be done.