In Tilea, war was usually good for trade. The moment nobles and lords of the city-states became bored of kicking around peasants, drinking, and commissioning nude sculptures, their next hobby was to stir some border conflict and start a civil war. Any time the murmurings of Lord such-and-such insulting Lady that-whore-from-next-state who was married to Lord inbred-donkey-the-red came around the taverns, merchants began salivating. An arms trader was about to become very rich. The metal and leather trade would start looking up. And while the artists might go hungry for a bit, a well-connected trader could make a killing without ever lifting a blade. After which, borders would be re-re-drawn, the markets would bustle once more, and nobles would go back to their daily routine of debauchery. Such was life. And in Tilea, life would go on after a war, that always felt inevitable.<br/><br/>It was the contrast that troubled Viola. In Untergard, life was slowly draining away. It was grey and brown and so very very uncertain. She'd seen her fair share of troubled towns and traveled in many warzones, but this particular dungheap felt...lost. Chaos had taken it's toll. When Tilea had heard of the hordes sweeping into the empire from the North, no merchant drank with joy. In a war between nobility, it was easy to make trades and negotiate deals from all sides. No one in their right mind would be selling their weapons to the cataclysm given flesh. The Empire was, she felt, the best bastion against the incursion, and she shuddered to imagine what would happen to colorful, warm Tilea should it fall. Her home with it's ocean views and bed of satin and silk felt so far away now.<br/><br/>Viola walked the streets, taking note of the downcast eyes, the hungry faces, and the sheer<i>lack</i>of people. She estimated fewer than a hundred left in the town. Still, there were a few murmurings of hope here and there, which assuaged Viola. Untergard was an important stop on trade routes through the Empire. She hoped it's citizens would be able to rebuild. Viola herself seemed to cut a contrast with the usual denizens, being only slightly covered with dirt and clad in light armor plating. Her helm hanging at her hip, a shortsword at her belt, and a spear on her back, she cut a more well-equipped figure than the downtrodden peasant.<br/><br/>Viola had come to the Empire for a fairly simple contract. A noble had requested armed escort, and she had hired a few blades to ensure he made it. They were to meet in Untergard for the rest of the payment, only for both the noble and his escorts to be killed in battle. On the bright side, she didn't need to pay the sellswords. But this also meant the other half of her gold wasn't coming, making this trip an utter waste. Once the rain cleared, she had planned on grabbing a horse and leaving for the south, and it was this plan that had her walking towards the town square. Viola pulled her cloak around her, shivering in the chill air. The sun hardly seemed to be doing it's job. The guard captain was shouting some words of hope, a caravan coming with food and wine, and assurances of survival to the few people left. And there was much rejoicing, though Viola felt it was perhaps lacking some real genuineness in some.<br/><br/>And then the gunshot ran out, and Viola instinctively ducked her head. She knew the sound well, and glanced around, trying to see anything of note through the panicking crowd. An assassination attempt, now? Why? Over the bridge, towards a ruined inn-a good spot for an assailant to hide. The she saw the mutants heading across the bridge, far more revolting than anything she had read in the cult scrolls.<i>Chaos</i>. Was it her imagination that her brand ached and burned? She slipped on her helm and began barking at the crowd to move, her Tilean accent coming through loud and clear. Utengard was lost, that much she could see. All that could be hoped for now were for any amount of refugees to make it out of the ruin alive. Viola looked to run herself, but the crowd was beginning to bottleneck. The mutants were too close-turning and running now meant she'd likely get caught in the crowd and be cut down. Better to fight her way through and escape through the flank when she had an opportunity.<br/><br/>'Fourth King, oh bright lord, let this not be the last tale of my ambition.' Viola turned to face the coming mutants, drawing her spear as she repeated the litany in her mind. Perhaps a recitement of Slaanesh's verses was a poor choice when fighting mutants, but it did it's task of steeling her nerves. She gripped her spear with both hands and moved forward. Her boots found some grip in the mud, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye two-no, three-other women standing apart from the fleeing crowd as well. Good. Whatever militia was left was too few, and any distractions would be key to helping her stay alive.<br/><br/>'I've been through worse,' She reassured herself. 'And Chaos...<i>Chaos provides.</i>'