R O N I N
Poor, brave, stupid Ronin felt the weight of his decision to push the fight, and Rory's reaction told him just how well it was going down with some. But he couldn't - wouldn't - let it lie. Were they meant to live and die in fear of the Spire and the creature that guarded it? Naturals these people may be, but for fear to become complacency spoke of generations of futile attempts.
And yes, perhaps their try at this would be just as futile. But they didn't have the experience of that to draw upon - until they did, he would give his all.
"Of course," he said. "Going after it in the snows would be more deathwish than anything. Flowerbirth it is." He smiled faintly at those who wanted to help. "There's one more thing," he said. "When we faced the creature last, it was injured enough for one of our group to notice that it doesn't seem to be organic..." Here Ronin glanced sidelong to Ashetta. "Whatever it is, it could have been made, rather than born..."
He was actually about to excuse himself when the door to the Temple opened, Ronin's blue eyes flicking up to see an unfamiliar woman striding inside. He didn't know her as Wessex, but another in the group seemed to, and believed she ought to be dead. Ronin glanced to
