[center][h1]Eastern Skael, Alenmiers[/h1][/center]

[b]"Aye, sir. We've spare radios for your lot as well. Albinsson!"[/b] The sergeant turned to call out towards a startled private. [b]"Get our guests some damn radios already, would you?"[/b]

While that was being attended to, Izayoi simply nodded in agreement with Galahad's battle plan, electing to spend the rest of the voyage leaned against the deck railing, simply staring out towards the mountains. 

She had wanted to deal with the camps herself. Despite Reisa's blood on her hands cooling no small amount of her fury, Valheim as a whole still drew a significant amount of ire from Izayoi. But this was the more tactically expedient option. Months before, she might have insisted otherwise. But now...well. If nothing else, the bonus of annoying Esben with her move had been at least somewhat worth it.

Minutes passed. As the airship drew closer, those aboard heard it before they saw it: the roars of dragons. Screeching and howling in what seemed to almost be...pain? And then the sight came into view: dragon attacking dragon, the ones on the offensive in a mad fury. A closer view with a spyglass would confirm the obvious theory: the attackers were practically leaking Blight from their fangs and wounds. 

[color=#736AFF][b]"This ought be the limit of how far we fly."[/b][/color] Izayoi tucked the radio she was given into her robes, adjusting her kote's fit. [color=#736AFF][b]"I should think it would be better if we make haste to fall upon them before the Blighted ones emerge victorious. 'Tis better that they all be distracted than a few dead and the rest Blighted."[/b][/color]

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[center][h1]Southern Skael, North of Solitude[/h1][/center]

[b]"A few days old. Only thing to add is that by all accounts, they're refusing to even get near the city limits. Not even to rotate and resupply."[/b] The raid captain rubbed her chin in contemplation, but eventually gave it up as a bad job. 

[b]"Either way, I agree. Initial scouting first. Then we finalize our plan of attack-"[/b]

[b]"Captain!"[/b] A hurried, hushed cry came up from the front of the group: another raider. [b]"Valheimr patrol of a dozen, damn near on top of us ahead. Visual as soon as you crest over the hill. We got damn unlucky in picking our landing zone: they're heading our way."[/b]

[b]"Birdshite!"[/b] The woman in charge hissed, flicking the safety off of her longarm. [b]"We've had this landing zone marked out for days! Their patrols haven't ranged out this way at all, they had to have known we were coming...damn it! Form up, you lot! Ambush positions!"[/b]