John
*Akasha went to sit down at the long bench mirroring Oris position as she began to talk with Artúr. When the old lady referred to herself as a 'maiden', she can't quite place what kind of reaction she should give to that. She nodded gratefully when the ranger reassured her.*
 
*She looked at her bowl which was already filled, then in turn towards Artúr who was about to eat. It is slight, but her eyes are filled with anticipation to either people, wondering whether or not they would enjoy her cooking. Because of that, she easily caught a glimpse of a part of his facial feature when he lifted his mask ever so slightly. Before she turned her eyes away as she felt that staring would be impolite, she noticed the scar that runs across his cheek, all the way down to his shoulder. She cannot help but wonder if that was the cause of why he wore a mask.*
 
"This is good,"
 
*Hearing that, she beamed, feeling slightly proud of herself. It was one of Mentian home cuisine, so she was worried at first if the strong flavour would suit the taste buds of Silnarian people. Though, now it seems that it was unwarranted. As Artúr and Oris chatted once again regarding the village history, Akasha took out something from her pocket. It was a locket, displaying an intricate carving of her patron deity symbol when opened. She held it with both of her hands and whispered a prayer to it.*

_ _
*"Through thy grace and generosity, bless us, and the food and drink for your servant, O Lord."*
 
*Putting back the locket inside of her pocket, she picked up the spoon and brought the stew to her face. She swept the golden strands of hair away from her face towards one side of her ears. Then, she blows the still hot soup carefully, before bringing it to her mouth. She returned her attention to the conversation, and heard the words of 'rebellion'. It looks like the granny is still telling him the story about her past. She already told them to Akasha earlier, which of course, also a well known history in Mentia. After all, the Menti majority kingdom such as Salvainia and Mentia also played a critical role in that war, as the rebel army supporter.*
 
*The priestess also stopped moving her spoon momentarily when she heard the mention of the night. Though, as she knows just how sharp Oris can be, she quickly regained her composure and turned her head at the old lady.*

"Mhm, don't worry. We have sir ranger— Artúr here who is really good at dealing with wild animals. And I will make sure to tend to his wound if there were to be some small scuffle. Though, we need you to stay inside until it's finished. Just to be safe, as wandering predators can be dangerous."
 
*She said, reassuring her that everything will be alright. In a way, this also serves to reassure herself as well. The old lady nodded, and they continued their meal.*
 
```And so, the sun has retired for the day.```

_ _
*The obscuring ghost of white veil rolled down from the mountain and the forest. It formed a blanket over Thonladear, reducing the vision distance. Akasha stood outside with Artúr, in the place where they talked at noon. In her hand is an oil lamp, which was borrowed from Oris to give some semblance of comfort from the abyss around them. She pulled her cape close to her, protecting her bones from the chilly wind of the season. A moment earlier, as had planned before, they have gone to the village elder so that he can warn the people to not go outside. Artúr had also come door by door to convince the more stubborn old timers about the danger.*
 
"Huff... Cold, isn't it?"
 
*Akasha said. A small smile is planted on her lips. Her eyes are not looking at the ranger's direction, rather, it is scanning the fog carefully. Her hand gripped on her staff tightly. The young girl is quite anxious, from what it seems. After this, they would need to go out there, towards the barn bordering the forest. Carrying the lamp is no go, as it would most likely alert the necromancer of their presence. She tightens her hand on her staff.*
 
"Are you prepared?"
Chad
**DUSK** *Had crept in, and so started the wait for the nightly undead. Artúr watched through the windows from the humble barn's attic on the hamlet's outskirts. He was still and quiet, like a body of water not yet touched, but like water, he was prepared to spring into action at any moment. The Silnari's eyes laid upon the wheat fields, barely visible in the darkness. But Artúr was almost a nocturnal creature at this point. His vision could discern the heat of objects and people, so it posed no problem. But it wasn't the blades of grass that were his concern: It was the monsters and the priestess girl.* 

*Not long before, Artúr and Akasha had set out to take their positions across the area in anticipation of the walking dead and the necromancer that commanded them. The plan was simple: Lure the undead to the carcasses laid next to a tree, and have them fall to the trapping pits and be attacked by the snare traps that would restrain them. Then, Akasha would put down the remaining enemies.*

*Artúr would remain in the barn, though still mindful of joining in the fray if the battle proved too difficult for Akasha. In the barn, Artúr would seek to conceal himself and wait for the necromancer to seek refuge in the fuilding. Then, the masked ranger would ambush the necromancer and bring the mage down to permanently end the terror that plagued the Nien for weeks.*
-

*Although many variables could change the plan, some good, others for the worse, it was the best the two adventurers could rely on, given their abilities and limited resources. But it was not the integrity of the mission that stressed Artúr's mind; it was who would be part of it. This was the first time Artúr would be collaborating with another person in a mission, so he was cautious, maybe nervous about what could happen to them. He wasn't concerned with himself, whether it was because he trusted in his skills or simply did not care, but when there were other lives at stake, it was a feeling that itched the young Silnari.* 

*Akasha had told Artúr that she could protect herself and put down the monsters, and he had good faith that that was the case. However, they had only met that evening. He was not completely sure of the priestess girl's abilities nor knew if she only had said that to allay Artúr's concern. Regardless, Artúr knew that the moment something went wrong, he would ensure Akasha's safety, even at the cost of the necromancer. He had been working by himself for the past two years; He was not about to let a partner down.*

*Artúr keenly observed the fields. His attention mainly focused on the tree and the blurb of yellow in the middle of the vast nightly blue that shrouded Artúr's vision. The yellow represented the heat of Akasha's body, and she was too waiting in the field. Although the undead could emit body heat themselves, it would be easy to differentiate Akasha from the others as she is alive. As the plan, she was to engage the monsters the moment they came to the tree and until the traps did enough damage themselves. If needed, Artúr also would help the priestess girl with his bow and arrow, supported by the ranger's advantageous position in the barn's attic.*
-

*His right palm tightly wrapped around the bow's handle, the other gripped against the arrow and string, ready to loose at any moment. The hardness of the wood was softened by the gloves Artúr wore, reducing the wear onto his skin, and the kneeling position Artúr found himself in was starting to get uncomfortable. But over the two years he had gotten used to cramped places by now, at times having to remain in the same spot for hours on end. It was also less troublesome this time as the mushroom stew Akasha had prepared replenished his energy.*

*Artur could only think about what was on Akasha's mind at that moment, and when the monsters would eventually show.*
John
*Meanwhile, Akasha is crouching amongst the tall wheatgrass growing densely on that field. Her petite body and blue cape is concealed well amongst the darkness of the night. Her breaths are slow and steady, maintaining her heartbeats in a stable pattern and sharpening her senses.*
 
*While her vision is greatly reduced because of the darkness and the fog, her eyes are still fixed on the tree which stood seven or so metres ahead. Their plan would take off the moment the undead fell into their trap. She needed to be aware as swiftly as possible and begin to act when that happens.*
 
*The piled up carcasses nearby filled the air with a strong, rotten stench. It caused her eyes to slightly water, but there is no other thing which she can do other than to preserve. Her staff is laying next to her, against the dry soil. It would give her an edge in the upcoming conflict if she were to prepare a few spells beforehand. However, she is unable to do so as the light produced by such action would undoubtedly act as a beacon. Various watching eyes could be present. Some, which might not belong to friendly creatures.*
 
*"The best option for now is to anticipate and cast them on the moment notice, as soon as the skirmishes begin." She thought.*

_ _
*She wondered if the ranger is able to keep a clear watch on the proximity, especially without any source of illumination. Her gaze turned towards the barn for a moment. She hoped that Artúr would succeed in taking down the necromancer once and for all. If she were to be a burden by relying on his aid when fighting the undead, his attention could be diverted. Their mission could fail miserably as the worst possibility. As it stood, if they let this chance slip, the necromancer is certain to be far more cautious for his next attack.*
 
*"I would be fine facing them alone." Her words echoed inside her mind. The claim which she had voiced a few hours ago to the ranger. Truth to be told, as an adventurer who has travelled on the road for some time in her own right, Akasha understands. Facing multiple enemies alone is a deathtrap in many combat cases. Unseen factors and various possibilities can emerge without a moment's notice. Yet, as much as she can, she would prefer if Artúr can put all of his attention to hunt the necromancer. Even if it meant that he would disregard her position.*
 
*Clenching hard against her staff, she steadied herself. A short prayer to her deity is whispered, as she resolved her heart. As much as she is the daughter of a priestess, she is also raised by a soldier. Before she had studied the mythical arts, she had lifted a sword. "The weight of your sword is the weight of your pride." She recalled her father's words. It is quite simple. If they come towards her at a distance, she shall burn them with holy miracle. If they come towards her at proximity, she shall subdue them with her staff.*
 
*Akasha thought about what Artúr might think at this moment, and pondered, in what form will the enemies appear?*