Nash turned to face the Coast, placing fingers to his lips and letting out a whistle, which, in the empty desert air, could be likened to the shriek of some far off bird.<br/>The answering call caused Yome to jolt, "Your steed survived?"<br/>Nash gave the youngling a disgusted look, "Shut up, coward. We're going Home."<br/>Once his ride appeared, snorting and clawing at the loose sand with frustration, they saddled up and headed for the coast.<br/>The Prince all but shoved the marksman off of his mount as they entered the camp. He was saluted and the Commander of the Coast bowed, "Sir, your Brother is here."<br/>The Prince stiffened, and sighed. "So be it."<br/>Jaax Vashiel sat within the main tent, his massive frame only made larger by his thick metal armor encasing his chest. The armor itself was of high-end Slayer make, and the sight of it brought a sneer to his brother's lips. "So heavily armored, and only in the second wave?"<br/>The Fifth Prince smiled, revealing teeth capped in gold, "Survival of the fittest, Frax. Unlike you, I chose a Genotype fitting of my Lineage."<br/>He gestured for his helm, and stood up, grabbing a thick sword as he rose, "A runner is no more than a slave. You should've picked a Barbarian like me. Probably put some meat on your bones...but I'm not here to ridicule you."<br/>The giant, vastly taller and wider than the other Prince, pulled out a blade, it's sides gilded with an odd, crimson metal, as well as a satchel of gold. "Brother, I listen to you most of all; can we win this war by the Fourth Wave?"<br/>Nash's eyes were riveted to the blade, "Not if Father sends in soldiers by the paltry handful. We need the entire Force."<br/>Jaax sighed, "Very well. Then I am here to hire you."<br/>The Seventh Prince narrowed his eyes and took several steps backwards, "No."<br/>"You were Trained. You have the skills." Jaax waggled the blade in front of the nose of the other. "Our back up arrives tomorrow at noon. And, do you want to know something? You're not to return home until your Training pays off. You've been reconnaissance for far too long, Frax, it's time you prove your Scars."<br/>The younger took the knife, hands shaking, "All of them?"<br/>Jaax grinned, "Only the leaders and the important ones. Be swift, but enjoy. Smoke while you travel." The dark giant winked, and laughed, "Now get out of my tent, runt."<br/>Nash was shoved away from the main tent, where he examined the bustling camp. The boats were running at their fastest speeds, and that meant soldiers were left behind while the lighter messengers reported to the King.<br/>Nash grabbed his mount and gestured to Yome, who'd taken up a lighter, faster crossbow to replace his broken one. "You're coming with me. We're going on an important mission. You may earn your Scars yet."<br/>The youngling nodded and scrambled aboard his own mount, and they set off, heading West, following the tracks of the retreating Knights.<br/><br/>The Next Wave set out in their ships, and landed on the Coast the next day. The troops had heavier armor, consisting of simple metals protecting the chest and head. Lancemen, Axemen, Swords, the Frontline, while Marksmen and Lancemen populated the back. Vicious looking animals, some unholy cross between lion and lizard were released into the desert, and these creatures ran forth and attacked anything their way, any that smelled of the Continent and not their masters. 280 men in all, separated into groups of 6, and swept over the countryside, marching west, and killing all opposition.<br/>They took the South first, crushing the weaker nations before making an approach at the stronger.<br/>By the third day, they would have Kynder, if the siege worked out. For now, they marched towards the country itself, leaving the burning cities and the screams of the damned behind them.<br/><br/>It was the Second Day after the Second Wave. Third After the "Conference" fiasco.<br/>Nash watched the smoke from his small camp just inside Coiil, near the border in an isolated spot.<br/>The marksman was busy shaving the thick curls off of the Prince's head, while the Prince himself looked at the gray clouds covering the sky, already on his third cigarette of the morning.<br/>Yome coughed on the Prince's smoke and moved onto smearing his skin with a red clay.<br/>When they were done the Prince looked several shades darker, his scars safely covered, and he was fairly bald, with the tattered tufts of hair sticking out, as would be expected of a peasant who'd survived a massacre and wandered the desert for days, shaving with naught but his crude dagger, and doing his best to appear harmless.<br/>Nash stood, dressed in all white, clothes tattered and stained with blood. He staggered towards the border. He did not need this guise to last long, he just needed to get in.<br/>His blade was strapped to his inner thigh, while, much more apparent, was the stone dagger, salvaged from the Coiil ruins.<br/>He took one last, long inhale from the drug, and dropped the butt on the ground, taking on a shambling gate as he slowly made his way towards the Kynder.<br/>Yome watched, puzzled as to what<span style="font-style: italic">he</span>needed to do. This was awfully non-Slayer behavior...to sneak in and fight from the inside. Nash would be put to death for lesser 'coward' behavior...but, if it was ordained by the Fifth Son, he supposed there were special times, special measures.