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

[b]"Aye, ser!"[/b] The sergeant saluted, bellowing orders back to the helm to land. Deboarding was quick, and the soldiers gathered up, setting out alongside Galahad, Miina, and Izayoi on foot towards the mountain and the dragons. Once they'd nearly reached the site, the Skaelers split up to set up fire support as Galahad instructed, readying and loading rifles while getting firing lines. 

For her part, Izayoi refrained from drawing her blade just yet, her brow furrowed as her ears twitched. She narrowed her eyes, trying to concentrate and hear past the sound of dragons roaring.

[color=#736AFF][b]"Something has been bothering me since we began to make our approach. 'Tis almost as if we're being watched."[/b][/color] She grunted, a hand falling to the hilt of her sword. [color=#736AFF][b]"Keep an eye upon our flanks and rear as we engage. The chance of another encounter with that damned spy is hardly zero."[/b][/color]

They took the final steps up toward the mountain path, and a stray dragon on the edge of the battle noticed them first. It roared, Blight dripping from its fangs, and the remaining flight of dragons began to look in their direction, wings splayed out to take flight. By this point, there were perhaps only one or two un-Blighted dragons remaining, with half a dozen writhing on the ground in the throes of infection. And ten in the full throes of Blight. Izayoi drew her sword, wind beginning to gather along the blade.

[color=#736AFF][b]"Now, Miina! Galahad, at your ready!"[/b][/color]

___

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

From over the ridge, the Valheimr patrol finally came into hearing range. Raised voices, agitated tones, to the point of near-panic, surprisingly. A dozen men bearing guns and sabers, holding the leashes of five barking, yapping hounds. If the yips were anything to go by, their presence wasn't completely made just yet. The dogs were alert and searching, to be certain, but it didn't seem that they had a definite scent.

[b]"Keep searching! He can't have gone far!"[/b]

[b]"Damn it, how the hell did that bastard thief even live long enough to break through the quarantine?!"[/b]

[b]"Shut [i]up[/i] and keep your damn eyes open! If this gets back to the higher-ups, we're never getting off garrison duty again!"[/b]

Searching for [i]someone[/i], it seemed. From her vantage point, the raid captain narroweed her eyes and moved her finger onto the trigger of her rifle, but held her fire. A cursory glance across the assembled skirmishers revealed no suspicious tells. Or at least, none that were obvious. They were all prepared to open fire at a moment's notice.

[b]"It's [i]one fucking mystrel[/i], and a damn redhead at that! How in all hells have we not even seen a single red hair in the middle of all this godsforsaken snow?!"[/b]