no plan survives

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame A status report, militia means and measures – he could fathom that, and fell into a more habitual routine, days long since passed where positions and conditions were presented for inspection, for approval, for a way to foster achievement even in the wake of disaster (were they headed there now?). So he listened, mind reeling on some of the conjectures, conjuring a charcoal and paper within his hand, settling the pad across his palm to jot everything down as it came. Amun and Wessex had left – likely at the undead luxere call, like several from their shelter. He was aware of the state of Cera’s body and the Rathskeller’s untimely demise; but based on the monsters stored within, he could comprehend why the destruction had taken place. Bars could be rebuilt. Something for the spring if they all managed to survive to see it. Bastien compromised the password, Wessex hadn’t re-established one, and he was the one left to fit the bill? His brow arched again, but since Loren couldn’t see the striking look of bemusement settling over his features, then it didn’t really matter. “The new password can be Citadel.” Mountains. Places of aspiration, seen through portals and fog, through ethers and abyss. A realm they might be able to venture towards, when the world stopped flickering apart. As for the field promotion, he had no issue or concern with it; Loren was part of their armed forces, an authority, a figure, meant to represent safety, protection, and might. “You may be Captain.” Then, it seemed to be his turn to follow suit. He started at the beginning, with the bizarre tale of the warrior and the children running amuck through the desolate void. “I arrested Roana and put her in a cell.” And not even that particular cell. “She somehow managed to escape and came here after saving three boys. She was injured by the monsters.” Consumed, devoured, laden with – were those the right terms? “She is dead. So is Caiside.” Ripped apart, flesh torn; and it sounded heartless, nonchalant, the way he described it – but he could only put so many things into words, when he struggled with the discourse in the first place. “Some of ours have gone out as well.” For multiple purposes – god quests and slaying souls, protecting the feeble, endangering themselves, carting bodies back and forth. “Rexanna and Sam are here. They were injured, but the unicorns have healed them as best they can.” Some portions would have to be handled by the Voice (which caused a sneer he couldn’t see). master of nothing place; of recoil and grace