A Slight Skirmish

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==Full Text==
The Warden: The rest of the day passed in quick travel, with Nalaagura feeding Greg energy to keep him moving and awake. As it was, however, they had no food with them and it only spurred Nala onward to getting him to a village where he could nourish himself. The conflict she sensed, however, still worried her. 
Soon, the shape of ramshackle rooftops came into being out of the fog. It seemed quiet for the moment but she was still cautious, putting up a shield around their minds in case of a mage being present. Greg, keep your head down for now, don’t reveal anything about me or the rebellion, is that clear? We need to see what’s happening before we do anything brash. She paused and changed her wording. Before you do anything brash.
Greg Ericson: Greg faked being offended for a moment. “Wha- me being brash? Pfft your fu- i am ne- okay.” He said after rambling quite a bit. He walked into town and started looking for an inn or a pub or something where they could get information. “Any ideas Nala?” He asked in his head. 
The Warden: Mmh…nothing so far…stop playing spy, you need food before information, she chastised him, noticing his thoughts. In fact, it might even be better to get on an innkeeper’s or such good side bef—
She stopped abruptly as a barrage of shouts came from their left, on the other edge of the village, facing the mountains. There, there, something’s happening there.
Greg Ericson: Greg could hear it too. “Let’s go check it out.” He said as he began moving towards the sound quickly 
The Warden: They proceeded cautiously into the dark village; there were very few lights, and a pair of eyes here and there that disappeared as soon as Greg and Nala noticed them. A few steps farther and it became apparent that there was a group of dark figures struggling at the end of the street. Several of them carried weapons. One of the taller lead figures threw a smaller one to the ground and she cried out, scooting away from him.
“We told you to leave!” he barked, baring his spear at her. “Take you and your filthy animal friends and vacate the area! Council’s orders!”
“P-please,” she begged, half-crying. As Greg drew nearer, the demon could see that it was a cow half-breed. Another little bull, probably her son, was being restrained by one of the soldiers. He kicked at the man’s armored shins with his hooves to no avail. “We can’t just leave, we haven’t done anything wrong…please…have mercy…”
“We don’t show mercy to beasts.” The lead guard brandished his spear. “One more chance, cow. Take your belongings and leave.”
Greg Ericson: As soon as Greg got close enough to see what was going on he called out to the group say, “Hey what’s going on over here?” 
The Warden: Nalaagura winced. Greg. Use your head. You’re one man, not an army.
The guard whirled around, narrowing his eyes as he saw the young man standing boldly in the center of the street, apparently alone. He obviously wasn’t used to someone like Greg standing up to him. “And just who might you be?” he said with a scowl. The other guards hefted their weapons, ready to squash this new resistance. The woman on the ground stared at him with wide, completely brown eyes, panting.
Careful. 
Greg Ericson: Greg walked slowly towards them. “Just a curious traveler.” He said with a smirk, hands in his pockets. “Dealing with the common beasts I see.” He walked through the guards to look at the woman and her son. He gave her a quick wink and turned back to the others. “Need any help?” 
The Warden: The lead guard looked taken aback but quickly assumed his threatening demeanor. “No, and especially not from foreign civilians such as yourself.”
Keep him talking, Greg, we may be able to save them.
 “Where are you from, anyway?” another guard said suspiciously. “You don’t sound local.” 
Greg Ericson: Greg smirked, “Oh I’m not from around here. I’m from a little island in the Wilderwest. Couldn’t stand the place, too many halfbreeds.” He slowly pulled out his sword and held the blade and hilt in his hands. “Come on man, my blade seeks excitement. Allow me a little fun will you?” 
The Warden:The guard squinted. “Council’s orders are to leave them alive. You’re not authorized to handle subhumans.” He turned his spear from the woman and pointed it at Greg. Ilf na’gl, the Warden swore in daemon, hurriedly rummaging through her vessel’s mind, making connections and channels where previously there had been none. “Sheathe your weapon and be on your way.”
Almost there, almost there, keep going, keep your sword drawn. The palms of Greg’s hands began to tingle.
Greg Ericson: “Oh alright,” Greg said with a sigh. “Will you at least take a look at my sword. I polished it up recently and I want a second opinion. Judging from yours you have a remarkable gift in polishing. Just take a look and I’ll be on my way, swear to the gods.” He finished with a winning smile. 
The Warden: “I’m warning you, boy. Either get out of my sight or suffer the consequences for insubordination.” His cool tone was giving way to an irritated growl. He began to storm forward. “This is your last chance.”
Something clicked, and Nalaagura shouted ecstatically, There! A rush of energy flowed through Greg’s mind, down through his arms, and she quickly took over and held the sword aloft in front of him, his hands quickly heating up like coals. The power pooled behind him, the pressure growing and growing, and Greg glanced up at the guard, who suddenly looked apprehensive of his glowing hands.
“No,” Nalaagura said through him. “This is yours.”
Greg Ericson: Greg was taken aback at this new found power. His hand kept getting hotter and hotter, but they never hurt. He didn’t know what Nala did but he enjoyed it. He snickered in his head. ‘Nice one-liner Nala.’ He thought to the demon. 
The Warden: Thank you, Greg.
The guards looked nervous but determined to hold their ground; they began to move forward cautiously behind their leader, who looked bolstered at the support of the seven men behind him. “Stand back!” he ordered, swiping his spear. The half-breeds were forgotten in the background; the woman had gotten to her feet, clutching her son tightly and watching the skirmish with wide eyes. Brimming with energy, Greg casually twirled his sword, the heated metal tip tracing orange circles in the air, and he suddenly stabbed it downwards. There was a muffled thump and then a hot, fiery blast blew outwards, scattering sparks through the air. The guards were violently thrown back by the force and it dissipated harmlessly around the half-breeds, who threw their hands up in front of their faces just in case. 
The Warden emerged from Greg’s mind, wrinkling her nose at the smoking corpses surrounding them. Bit messier than I preferred, but after all, it was your first time. Well done.
Greg Ericson: Greg ignored the demons praise and sheathed his sword and went over to the half-breeds. The young bull cowered behind his mother. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, and that I said those awful things. Are you okay?” He asked the mother kindly. 
The Warden: “Yes, we’re fine. Just a little shaken.” She stroked her son’s messy black-and-brown mottled hair. “It’s all right, Gil. He saved us.” Beaming at Greg, she took his hands and clasped them in hers, his skin having cooled off. “May the gods in Valhalla bless you, sir, for we get to keep our home. May Odin guard you. They have been threatening to drive us out for years and Central finally decided to act on their warning.” From the houses behind them, at the edge of the village, the civilians began to creep out of hiding, eyes widening at the remnants of the fight. They were obviously inexperienced fighters, nothing more than peaceful farmers and shopkeepers. “Is there anything we can do to help you?”
Nala invisibly nudged him. Directions, ask for directions. And food.
Greg Ericson: Greg flinched slightly at the mention of Valhalla and Odin, however he didn’t let this trouble him. The woman had no way of knowing, and was just trying to be kind. “I hate to trouble you for it miss,” Greg said smiling nervously. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I was a traveler. Would you possibly have some food, and directions for my journey, or even just a place to rest.” 
The Warden: “Of course, my dear, whatever you need.” She smiled over his shoulder. “Marie! Come, let’s find this young man a bed, and some food. We have a debt to repay.”
Well, aren’t you just a silver-tongued charmer.
Category:Events
Category:The Warden
Category:Greg Ericson
Category:Season 5
Category:BOTGD