#clovis snaregrin

Targrin, Act 2: Rescue

1328 AE, Fields of Ruin, Ascalon

(A few hours after the events of Act 1)

“Ugh, this place reeks. Let’s keep our time here short.”

“Would you say this is preferable to or worse than hoofing it all the way from the Black Citadel, Maurus?”

“It’s a tough choice, honestly, but I suppose the quicker we come here to do… whatever it is we’re doing, the better.”

Fresh out of the asura gate from Ebonhawke came a ramshackle trio of charr, all sporting rather vibrant orange and purple armour. The second-biggest of them, Maurus Snagglegrin, looked around a bit, before clearing his throat. “So like I was asking, what’re we doing here again?”

“We’re making trouble for Separatists,” stated Atlas Jaspergrin, the tallest of the group.

“Damn straight we are,” came the call from the back, uttered by Clovis Snaregrin, the shortest of the trio, as they headed down the ramp and out of the stronghold proper. “Though I don’t think bossman said how we should making trouble for Separatists, so… any thoughts, Atlas?”

“You weren’t paying attention, were you, Clovis?”, Atlas chuckled. “Apparently some of the bastards have set up a camp in the Sniper’s Woods area, and it’s making things difficult for our Iron Legion diplomats trying to aid construction efforts in Tyler’s Bivouac. We’ve been tasked with disrupting their activities in the area. So you know, the usual, trash the camp, kill ‘em all, you know how we do.”

“Oh, I knew that! I just wanted to hear it from someone who wasn’t bossman,” Clovis smiled cheekily, “That, and I wanted to know how much looting we’d be doing this time around.”

Atlas chuckled. “You know, the usual. Anything that isn’t nailed down. Whoever finds the most valuable thing wins a free drink when we get back.”

No sooner had they gotten out of Ebonhawke than they heard a commotion - Lots of screaming and distressed sounds, interspersed with the occasional gunshot… seems like there was a pattern, and it didn’t sound like a fight. It sounded more… one-sided.

Maurus piped up. “Think that’s the camp?”

Atlas nodded. “Sounds like some folks are already having fun.”

Clovis chimed in. “Oh, let’s see if we can find another angle of attack. I bet they won’t be expecting a group to hit ‘em from ‘round back.”

Atlas hummed. “Y’know, that’s not a bad thought. They’re probably distracted fighting off who knows what else, we could totally take them by surprise.”

The Separatist captor had been doing a number on Chaz - slow, painfully long drags of the knife across their arms, legs and torso - Careful enough to avoid severing arteries or causing serious damage, yet brutal and slow enough to make every living second hell. The screaming had since subsided to a soft whimper and an occasional yelp. “Oh come on, most charr I’ve tortured last longer than this. Don’t tell me you’re really as weak as you look.”

Chaz winced and squirmed, feeling dizzy and nauseous. “Fuck you, you murderous warmongering scum” was what they wanted to utter, but it came out as a slurred mess of words ending in what sounded vaguely like “Your mom.”

The captor took great offense to this perceived slight and raised his knife, causing Chaz to yelp, flinch and shiver some more, but a ruckus broke out from elsewhere in the camp. Screams, gunfire and yells of “Take that, Separatist shitbags!” echoed throughout the area. This sounded a lot more like an actual fight, and the torturer seemed none too pleased with this fact.

“Oh hell… Well, I didn’t get as much time with you as I would’ve liked, but I must be going now. Do hold onto THIS for me though, would you?”, he grumbled, emphasizing the word “This” by plunging his knife deep into Chaz’s still-good leg, causing them to yelp again in pain. Before they could swear at their captor, he was already gone, along with a handful of his cronies. Glancing around more, Chaz’s eye caught sight of a trio of charr dressed in purple and orange.

Maurus was the first to point them out. “Oh shit, those bastards had a prisoner. He looks like he’s hurt pretty bad!”

Atlas chimed in, “Don’t worry, kid, we’re here to help!”, and the two of them hurried over, followed shortly by Clovis.

Chaz was still on high alert, and panic set in.

“What are you doing?!” they yelped hysterically at the three charr. “Get out of here, it’s a trap! They’re using me as bait and they’re gonna… just get away from me, leave me here before… just leave me!”

The trio slowed down, and looked dumbfounded - from their perspective they saw a half-naked, cut-up, clawless male charr with a knife stuck in his leg, yelping incoherently about an ambush. Atlas tilted his head. “What, you mean those guys?” He stepped aside, giving Chaz a clear view of a pile of Separatist corpses.

“Oh yeah, we killed ‘em quick,” Clovis chimed in, holding an armful of weapons and trinkets Maurus nodding alongisde her, holding an equally large armful of assorted junk.

Chaz stared… and laid their head back, letting out a pained laugh. “Okay…  I must be delirious from blood loss or shock, most likely I’m hallucinating. That’s the only possible explanation that I can come up with for how I can go from being tortured by a knife-wielding Separatist maniac to being greeted by a bunch of looters dressed in orange and purple!”

The Grins looked at each other, and then at Chaz. Clovis piped up. “I think we broke him.” Maurus nodded again.

Atlas, however, noticed something else. The handle of that dagger stuck in Chaz’s leg… It looked like a golden wing. That’d probably be worth a few gold, and he’s sure he’d be doing this kid a favour by getting rid of it for them... He went over to Chaz, and without really thinking much else, he yanked it out, causing Chaz to let out a shrill yelp of pain. “Check it out, I found the shiniest thing in the camp!”

Clovis and Maurus both dropped their armfuls of loot and rushed over to Chaz and Atlas. “ATLAS!” Maurus snapped, “You don’t just yank a knife out of someone like that!”

Atlas looked at the knife, then at Chaz’s leg wound, and then back at the knife. “But I… Oh. Ohhhh. Er, sorry, buddy.”

He jammed the knife back in place, causing Chaz to yelp again and nearly pass out. Maurus and Clovis both put a palm over their faces, with Clovis finally admitting “Okay, well that’s one way to deal with that.”

Chaz, still dizzy and incoherent, looked back at the purple-and-orange charr rescuers. “Alright, so you three are real. And you really dealt with… most of the Separatists.”

“Aw, only most?” Clovis grumped.

Maurus patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. “Yeah, I’m bummed about it too. We saved this cub, though, we should patch him up before he bleeds out.” Clovis nodded in agreement, and the two of them started gathering together whatever medical supplies they could find in the camp.

While they were at work, Atlas tilted his head. “So… what’s your story? You’re here with a knife in your leg - sorry about that again - you’re all cut up and you were yelling at us about some ambush and-- what happened to your claws?!”

Chaz chuckled weakly. “Don’t worry about the claws. Been like that since I was born. Separatist bastard sounded disappointed that I didn’t have any for him to pull out, lemme tell you.”

Atlas looked confused, but nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Tarbound. Chaz Tarbound. Tar Warband. Iron Legion.”

“Hey, another Iron Legion band! I’m Atlas Jaspergrin, Grin Warband. Those two over there are Clovis Snaregrin and Maurus Snagglegrin.”

“Wait,” Clovis called out, as she and Maurus hurried over to the injured charr with some first aid supplies. “Did you say Tar warband? I remember hearing they had an unusual recruit, a clawless charr who applied some revolutionary asura techniques into building charr technology.”

Chaz weakly raised a clawless hand. “That’s me.”

Clovis looked pretty overjoyed. “Oh wow, we need to talk sometime when you’re better! …Where’s the rest of your warband?” She asked, as she started applying antiseptic to Chaz’s lacerations, in an attempt to keep them distracted.

Chaz looked visibly upset, but tried to hold it back, wincing every now and again as more antiseptic and bandages were applied. They gestured weakly towards the group of dead charr near the camp’s front entrance. “I… I couldn’t do anything. The Separatists… they… one-by-one. They made me watch. Kept telling me I was next.”

“Burn me,” Atlas grumbled. “So they really were using you as bait. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Chaz sounded more and more upset. “It was my fault. If I’d just shut up instead of making a racket… maybe they…”

“Hey, hey, hey now, don’t go talking like that,” Clovis said, shushing Chaz and trying to comfort them. “You can’t go blaming yourself for what these bastards did to you. Y’hear me? It’s not your fault.”

“Your bandmates went to great lengths to save you,” Maurus huffed, looking down at Chaz as he helped Clovis patch them up. “You would have done the same for them, wouldn’t you?”

Chaz was hesitant, but eventually nodded. “Tar Warband sticks together… Though technically speaking Tar Warband isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? That one over there, Arjuna Tarpelt… she was the Legionnaire. I’m not fit to lead a warband…”

“Well, you’re not fit to do much of anything right now,” Atlas offered, somewhat unhelpfully.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea!” Clovis chirped, “We were looting this place, right? We looted this charr, so he’s ours now! He can be a part of Grin Warband!”

“Yeah, he looks so adorable and small,” Maurus chimed in, “We can’t just leave him to be a gladium, that’s just not right. Can’t we keep him?”

“We’re not kidnapping him,” Atlas stated flatly. “You need to ask him politely, and see how he feels.”

Clovis nodded, as she and Maurus finished patching up the charr and sitting them up. “So, Chaz, how do you feel about that?” she inquired hopefully.

“I feel like I am in severe pain and discomfort, and require immediate medical attention,” Chaz stated, bluntly and unhelpfully.“Fair enough,” Clovis sighed, “It’s gonna be a bit of a journey but we can take you back through the asura gates in Ebonhawke. Do you think you can stay with us until we get back to the Black Citadel, or should we try and get you some treatment in Lion’s Arch?”

“The Citadel, please…” Chaz responded weakly, “Ugh… then again, I… don’t know if I’m ready to explain to the Tribune what happened. I’m going to have to register as a Gladium and that’s gonna be a mess, and--”

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s just focus on the fact that you’re still with us, right?” Atlas butted in. “We can worry about all that paperwork later, but for now we really need to get you to the Citadel. Can you walk?”

Chaz shook their head, pointing to the bullethole in one leg and the knife in the other, the knife that Atlas had haphazardly pulled out and reinserted.

“Right, right. Sorry again about the knife. Maurus, care to give this guy a lift?”

Maurus nodded, and rather roughly picked Chaz up and slung them over his shoulder, eliciting something of a squeak of pain from the small charr. “Jeez, you’re lighter than I expected, lil’ buddy,” Maurus chuckled. “They been starving you in that camp?”

“N-no, I was only in there for a few hours… At least I think it was a few hours. I’ve just always been like this.”

“Well you’re lookin’ like a mess, either way. Speakin’ of, we should get you to our mess hall once you’re patched up, get you some grub, y’hear? Now there’s something to look forward to.” He offers the smaller, injured charr a soft smile, over his shoulder.

And so, as Maurus and Clovis started heading back towards the gates of Ebonhawke in the early evening light, with Chaz in tow, Atlas surveyed the carnage of the would-be Separatist camp that they’d successfully trashed and looted.

He took another glance at the remains of the Tar warband, and heaved a sigh. “Fucking Separatists. The hell do they think they’ll accomplish pulling this shit?” Near the corpses, a conspicuous patch of bloodstained grass caught Atlas’ eye - a trail led from it to where the Grins had found Chaz, and nearby, a rickety old bolt-action rifle lay on a flat rock.

Targrin, Act 5: Induction

1329 AE, Black Citadel, Ascalon

(An hour after the events of Act 4)

The Grins’ legionnaire was enjoying a quiet night to himself at the bar. Wait… was it night? How long had he been… Whatever, it was dark out, most of the other patrons had left, he had some peace and quiet to himself for now, he might as well enjoy-

“EY, Bossman!” the voice almost resonated throughout the tavern.

The legionnaire turned his head just slightly, he didn’t need to look to figure out who owned that voice. “…Atlas. What brings you here at… What time is it?”

“Good morning to you too, sir.” Atlas chuckled, taking a seat at the bar, as Maurus followed closely behind. “Nice timing, we have some news! I was gonna save it for tomorrow but while we’re here…”

“It had better be damn good news, I’m on my last drink for the night, I don’t have the cash for any… actually scratch that, it had better be damn okay news, I’m not buying you lot drinks to celebrate.”

“Not to worry, I’m already buying a round for three other folks, I can buy one for you too.”

The legionnaire cracked a smile. “Alright, if ‘free drinks’ is the news, I’m happy to… “ He paused, counting the heads unsteadily. “Wait. Three other folks? There’s just you and Maurus, and Maurus and…  and Maurus.”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m the one you’re supposed to be seeing three of!” came another voice from the doorway. Clovis trotted in, with Chaz tagging along behind her.

The legionnaire looked back at Atlas and Maurus. “…Oh right, you, Maurus and Clovis. And… who’s he?”

Clovis put her hand on Chaz’s shoulder and shook them excitedly, which elicited a pained squeak from the smaller charr. “We looted a potential ‘bandmate!”

Atlas shook his head. “Nonono, that’s, uh. We have someone who wants to join our warband.”

“Hah!” the legionnaire scoffed. “That’s a new one. Someone actually volunteering to join this bunch?”

Clovis gently nudged Chaz towards the bar. The legionnaire rubbed his eyes and took a closer look. “…He’s got no claws. He’s so small. How old is he?”

“They,” Clovis started, making a point to correct the legionnaire, “turn twenty-six next month. I know they look small and soft and cuddly, and that’s… because they are, but you can check in with Tribune Goreblade yourself, they’re twenty-five, they’ve been registered as a gladium for a few months, and they were keen on joining us.”

Chaz finally spoke up, raising a nubby paw-hand. “Y…yes. Is it alright if I join your warband, sir?” They squirmed a bit, struggling to get up onto the barstool next to the legionnaire. They yawned a bit, looking over at the bartender. “Uh, I’ll have an amber ale. Please.”

The Legionnaire was taken aback, and tried to maintain a more professional tone of voice, despite being fairly drunk. “…If… If what Clovis is saying is right, you’re a bit older than the others. …You’re not in trouble for anything, are you?”

Chaz looked back towards the legionnaire, looking unsure. “I… don’t know? If it hadn’t been for Atlas I’d probably be in the stockades instead of the tavern right now. But once word gets out of what happened I doubt very many warbands will want me.”

Confused, the legionnaire looked to the other Grins for further explanation.

“We might’ve been over at the Redreave Mill. I was showcasing their combat prowess to a few other legionnaires, in the hopes of getting them into a warband. They’re a crack shot with the rifle, you should’ve seen them in action. They used a wounded Separatist as bait to lure out others and take ‘em out. They even made one’s head explode!”

“Really? This lil fella? I doubt he- …they… know how to hold a rifle.” The legionnaire scoffed, moving to pat Chaz on the shoulder.

Chaz huffed a bit, and took a swig of their ale. “Atlas, do you still have that rifle?”

“Uh… yeah, here. It’s not loaded.” He walked around and handed Chaz the rickety, bandaged-up rifle. Chaz took it gently, holding it up to their shoulder in a firing stance, finger off of the trigger.

“Well, there’s no scope on this, so I wouldn’t be able to trajectorize as easily… it’s also in really poor shape, unsurprising, given the last owner was a bastard…” A brief pause, Chaz lowered the rifle from their shoulder, shook it gently, then quickly pulled back the bolt, a slightly rusted bullet springing out of the magazine and landing on the floor with an audible ‘clink’. “…The bolt-action’s sticking with me a bit… oh, and it was loaded, but it’s empty now, thank you Atlas.” They held the rifle back out to him.

Atlas coughed, slightly embarrassed. “You can hold onto it. You seem to know your way around that thing better than I do, I nearly shot Maurus with it.”

“Oi!” Maurus grumped, glaring at Atlas. “I’ve had enough of that for one morning.”

“I stand firmly corrected,” the legionnaire grumped. “So why… what happened that the other bands won’t take you?”

“I nearly shot Maurus,” Chaz mumbled.

“They nearly shot Maurus,” Atlas and Clovis chimed in.

“They nearly shot me,” Maurus confirmed, giving Atlas another glare. “In that case though it was partly my fault.”

“Okay… Okay back up a little bit, I’m gonna need more information on that. What happened?”

“Well,” Maurus coughed, “I might have walked down into an active firing range without warning the shooter - that’d be Chaz.”

“Yeah,” Atlas countered, “But when I realised you were going down that way I tried to warn Chaz, and they were…”

“I was lost,” Chaz piped up, finishing Atlas’ sentence, “I’d assumed everything I was aiming at was… was a… I mean, it wasn’t until Atlas knocked me off of the mounted rifle that I realised what had almost happened.”

The legionnaire nodded, humming pensively. “So… you’re a good sniper but you have difficulty differentiating targets? You had your eyes tested recently?”

“Eyesight’s fine, it’s just… I mean… I was sort of taken by a strange mood… like… I just saw… I…” They started stammering again, taking slow, shaky breaths.

“They’re suffering from battle fatigue, sir,” Atlas piped up, putting a hand on Chaz’s shoulder gently to try and help them calm down. “We never got around to explaining where we found them.”

The Legionnaire tilted his head. “Clovis said something about looting a ‘bandmate but aside from that, no, you haven’t explained yet.”

“Alright, well you remember a couple of weeks ago you asked us to go over to Ebonhawke and fuck about with some Separatists?”

“‘Disrupt Separatist activity in and around Ebonhawke’ was the official order, soldier. But yes, I left it to you three to decide how to proceed.”

Atlas leaned over, whispering to Chaz. “See what I mean?” No response. “…Sorry.”

“I haven’t gotten your report back about that yet, by the way, how’d that go?”

“Well, we discovered a makeshift Separatist camp up in the Sniper’s Woods, and Clovis suggested we loot the place after trashing it.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but good work. Gave those bastards a run for their money, yeah?”

“Yessir,” Atlas nodded, “While we were looting the place we found Chaz here. They were kind of… messed up when we got to them. They’d been tortured, used as bait to lure other Charr into a trap.” Still no response from Chaz, who was staring off into the distance, shivering. Atlas squeezed their shoulder gently. “C’mon Chaz, stay with us, you’re safe here.”

The Legionnaire huffed. “And you say they lost their warband?”

Atlas nodded grimly, still trying to help Chaz keep it together, “Yessir. This is Chaz Tarbound, from the Tar Warband, Iron Legion. They were in the area helping the humans with construction efforts, when they were ambushed by Separatists.”

“I see.” The legionnaire looked over to Chaz, his expression softened a little. “I’ve heard of Tar’s efforts around Ascalon, as well as their revolutionary turrets that were deployed in Orr. Deepest condolences, soldier. We’ll head out to the Plaza of Remembrance and raise a toast to them later. …They have been memorialized, yes?”

Chaz shivered a little, sniffling. They lowered their head, shoulders slumped, looking physically overburdened with guilt. That was as much an answer as the Legionnaire needed, and he frowned.

Eager to break the awkward silence, Atlas stood up. “Clovis, Maurus, keep an eye on Chaz, yeah? Make sure they get some food and drink in them, they could use something good right about now.” Atlas looked over to the legionnaire, and jerked his head in the direction of a spot away from the bar. “A word, sir?” The legionnaire nodded slowly, and followed Atlas over.

“So it’s… pretty bad, huh?” the legionnaire gruffed, once the two were out of earshot.

“That’s the thing, we’d rehearsed this marksmanship demonstration before and Chaz was perfectly fine - They’re an amazing shot, they’ve got some self-doubt about their abilities but they’re really good. That said, the reason they’re here is kind of… my fault. I guess I underestimated what the Separatists had done to them emotionally.”

“So after they suffered so much at the hands of Separatists, you figured the best thing to do was expose them to more Separatists.”

“Yeah, that was… a mistake. I figured they could be done with some revenge, but they sort of… lost themselves, kind of like what’s happening right now. You can probably see why the other warbands won’t take them.”

“I see… I think I might have an idea of where this one could be useful.”

“Oh thank fuck, because I’ve been running on fumes for the past few minutes and I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“Not to worry,” the legionnaire chuckled, heading back over to check on Chaz, who had buried their head in their arms, hiccuping quietly. “Clovis, Maurus, How’s our new member holding up?”

“I dunno,” Maurus shrugged, “We got them talking again and things seemed fine, but then they just broke down sobbing and apologising over and over. Maybe giving them booze right now was a bad idea?”

Clovis had a hand on Chaz’s shoulder, giving them a reassuring rub. “Nahhhh, I think loosening the valve on the waterworks is helping… Wait, did you just say ‘new member’?” She looked up at the Legionnaire and then back down at Chaz, whose head slowly lifted back up - they were a sight for sore eyes after all that crying, but they looked as surprised as the others did.

“Well, not officially yet, but I’ll be getting in touch with Tribune Goreblade to let him know I’m recruiting Chaz here into our ranks. I just wanted to ask you something first, Chaz, and I understand if it’s hard to answer.”

Chaz sniffled and hiccuped a bit more, but nodded. “Y-yes, sir?”

“When you were in Tar Warband, what were your off-field duties?”

Some confusion from Chaz. “What do you mean off-field?”

“Anything you did back at your barracks, stuff that doesn’t involve building or sharpshooting. Both are valuable skills, of course, I just wanted to know what else you did.”

“Oh! Umm… I helped take stock of our supplies, wrote up requisitions for more materials when we needed them… Desk jobs, paperwork and bureaucracy really.”

“Ahh, yes,” the legionnaire chuckled. “The eternal battle to get through all of that red tape, right?”

“Actually, if I’m to be honest, I kind of enjoyed that side of the work.” Chaz laughed lightly, still sniffling.

The Grins looked at each other, and then to their Legionnaire, sharing an expression that was summed up by the Legionnaire’s next word: “…What.”

“…What?” Chaz tilted their head. “It was nice. It was actually… kind of relaxing after a long day of marching and carrying stuff back and forth, or after my guard shifts with the rifle. Actually made me feel kind of important, too. With a bit of know-how and a few strokes of a pen, I could get anything you need delivered to you in good time.”

Yet another flabbergasted look shared between the rest of the Charr. “You… you’d actually be happy to do our paperwork for us? Shit, what have I been drinking?”

“You’ve been drinking my wallet dry,” Atlas snarked, as he forked out the change for another round of drinks.

Wiping the tears away from their face, Chaz smiled, a soft, heart-melting smile. “If… if that’s what your warband needs, I’d be more than happy to help out.”

“Well then, I’d be more than happy to-”

“Wait, wait, I’m not finished,” Chaz interrupted, that adorable little smile spreading a bit further into an expression of unbridled gratitude, “Your warband saved my life. They did their best to help me find a new warband. You offered to take me in when nobody else would.”

“It’s nothing, really, we just-”

“I can do a lot more than just handle your paperwork for you. What if I told you I’d be willing to go the extra mile?”

The legionnaire blinked. “…Go on.”

“Oh, it’s nothing major, just that you mentioned having difficulty with red tape?”

“Yes?”

“It so happens that over the three years I served with Tar, one of my old bandmates taught me a few tricks to cut through the bureaucratic crap, save time, save money, you know.” Without even changing their expression, they lowered their voice just so the barkeep wouldn’t hear. “…Exploiting loopholes, basically.” A wink to seal the deal.

The legionnaire, still trying to process this all, approached Chaz, sitting back down at the bar and taking another swig of booze. “I’m still convinced I’m drunk and imagining all of this, but… welcome to the Grin warband, soldier. Better to get that out of the way now than later when I’m hung over.”

A chuckle between the Grins.

“And don’t worry, I’m not just shuffling you into a desk job. You may still perform field work with the other Grins, and I’d recommend it so you can keep your marksmanship in practice, but you are under no pressure to do so.”

“Thank you, sir. I think as long as I have someone keeping an eye on me I’ll be fine.” Chaz nods, having finally calmed down and cheered up.

“There is one other matter we need to see to before I wrap up this impromptu meeting,” the legionnaire continued. “Your name. You’re a Grin now, have you thought of a name for yourself?”

“Uhh… “ Chaz pondered.

“Bluntgrin, ‘cause you’ve got no claws!” Clovis offered.

“Grinbolt, because you’re damn good with that bolt-action rifle,” Atlas pondered.

“Pengrin, if you’re as good at tackling paperwork as you say,” Maurus mused.

Chaz shook his head. “No, no… I can’t make up my mind… argh.” They tapped their temple a bit. “C’mon, Chaz, think…”

“Targrin,” the Legionnaire stated flatly, much to Chaz’s surprise. “Your old warband clearly meant a lot to you,” he explained, “When you talked about your time working with them earlier, you looked… happy. It’s a bloody shame the Tribune hasn’t memorialized them in the Plaza, so the least I can do is let you carry their name with you. If you want, no pressure.”

“I… yeah.” Chaz looked down at the floor. “Ever since the day I lost them, it hurts… far more than any blade or bullet. But when I think about the time I spent working with them, it…” They sniff a bit again. “It’s nice.”

“Hey hey hey, I didn’t mean to start up the waterworks again.”

“No, no, it’s alright.”

“Give it a try. Repeat after me. ‘Hello, My name is Chaz Targrin’.”

“H-hello. My name is Chaz… Targrin.”

“Again.”

“Hello, my name is Chaz Targrin.” A chuckle. “It’s got a ring to it.”

“Once more!”

“Hello! My name is Chaz Targrin!” he laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I like it!”

Targrin, Act 4: Redreave

1329 AE, Diessa Plateau, Ascalon

(A month after the events of Act 3 and the Interlude)

The sun was setting on Redreave Mill, and most of the mill workers were turning in for the night, leaving behind seven charr - Chaz, Atlas, Clovis and Maurus, along with a trio of very gruff, mean-looking, very unimpressed Charr who were watching Chaz’s every move.

“Are you sure this is gonna work, Atlas?” Chaz sounded a bit anxious, as they adjusted the rifle’s tripod for their shorter stature, and started work on zeroing the scope.

“Sure thing!” Atlas chuckled, giving Chaz a thumbs-up. “You get to blow off some steam by picking off some Separatists, and those three,” he gestured to the rather bored-looking trio off in the distance, “Are gonna be practically tripping over each other to get you in their warbands.”

“What about you lot? You know, you, Maurus and Clovis?” Chaz looked over at the latter two, who were sharing a chat and a laugh. “Clovis seemed keen on keeping me around, and Maurus really doesn’t like seeing me in the Gladium Canton.”

“We just want to make sure you’re happy, buddy. And we’re getting you out of that slum, promise. Lemme tell you, I asked around to see if anyone was in need of a marksman, those three showed interest, I told them I had found a gladium whose marksmanship would blow them away. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

“And let me tell you, they took one look at me and immediately looked like they’d gotten coal for Wintersday,” Chaz retorted, “I mean look at me. All fluffy and small and clawless, and look at everyone else, all big, mean and pointy, do I look like I’d be a good fit?” They leaned down and took a look through the scope.

“Don’t worry about it. What you do is more important than how you look, you hear me? Now, is that rifle ready or-”

CRACK! Atlas jumped as Chaz loosed a shot from the rifle, before adjusting the scope and very flatly stating “It’s ready.”

“For the love of… right. Sorry. Just… warn me next time you’re about to do that.”

Chaz apologised, smoothly sliding the bolt out and ejecting the bullet casing. “Sorry about that, I tend to go a bit auto-pilot if I’m nervous, I don’t really think about what I’m doing while I’m doing it, you know?”

Atlas took a second to respond, sounding slightly stunned. “I can see that - you just loaded the magazine and slammed that bolt back in place without even looking.”

Chaz tilted their head. “I did what now?” They looked back at the rifle, pulling back the bolt slightly and seeing a bullet primed and ready to fire. “…Huh. I guess I did.” chk-chnk, the bolt goes back in place.

Atlas chuckled. “See what I mean? You’ll be fine. Right, I’ll flag the legionnaires down, you get ready.” Chaz nodded affirmatively, and got themselves into sniping stance.

“Right, legionnaires, sorry to keep you waiting!” Atlas chirped to the three grumpy looking charr. “Our marksman was just making sure their equipment was in order.”

“So what exactly are we here for again?” the stoutest and grumpiest-looking of the legionnaires huffed.

“Well, you three mentioned that you were looking for a marksman for your warbands, and I happen to be friends with a gladium who might suit your needs!”

“How long has this charr been a gladium?” the tall, lanky member of the legionnaires inquired.

“A few months, give or take. Separatist ambush late last year, they were the sole survivor, It was a pretty rough situation. They’ve recovered enough physically now to demonstrate their skills to you.”

The most dignified looking of the trio pondered aloud. “Interesting. You keep referring to our prospective marksman as ‘they’, is that… how they prefer to be addressed?”

“Chaz identifies as non-binary,” Clovis piped up from the distance. “Is that a problem at all?”

“Not at all,” the legionnaire harrumphed, “I just wanted to make sure. You say they’re fit for combat, yes?”

“Indeed, as fit as a fiddle,” Atlas confirmed. A yelp of pain and some swearing from Chaz’s direction punctuated that. “Okay, they’re still a bit wobbly on their legs. That… might have been my fault, but they’ll be fully recovered in no time!”

The dignified legionnaire nodded. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Right, good, any other questions,” Atlas asked, looking between the three legionnaires, “Or shall we get this demonstration on the road?”

The three charr conferred with one another briefly, and nodded. “Let’s see what your friend is capable of.”

Clovis and Maurus joined Atlas and the Legionnaires for the demonstration. Atlas seemed all too eager to play Chaz up.

“Alright, everyone! I hope you brought a few drinks and maybe a sandwich or something, because our good friend Chaz, is locked, loaded, and ready to--”

CRACK! The Grins all jumped, while the Legionnaires looked on, mildly surprised. Chaz pulled the bolt back and ejected a casing before slamming it back in place.

“…Snipe some Separatists. Apparently without warning.” Everyone looked in the direction of Chaz’s shot. A good distance away, a lone Separatist lay dead, bleeding on the ground from their torso.

“A clean kill, centre mass, from that distance,” murmured the stout, grumpy Charr. “That takes some eagle eyes.”

“Ah, now that’s the thing,” Atlas explained, quickly regaining his composure. “My friend here has spent a lot of time in Rata Sum, and learned many things from the asura.” A chuckle erupted from the legionnaires, but Atlas continued. “What you are seeing is not just eagle eyes, but applied mathematics. By reading their environment, they can judge how far away the target is, and-”

CRACK! Atlas jumped again, much to the amusement of Clovis and Maurus, who were ready this time. Chk-chnk. The shot and the bolt action movement were much closer together, much more fluid. The group looked just in time see another Separatist drop, another center-mass shot from further away. Atlas cleared his throat and continued “…then trajectorize their shots appropriately.” Atlas paused to see if Chaz was about to fire without warning again. “In essence, my friend Chaz here is using math to-”

CRACK-chk-chnk - “… To explode other peoples’ heads.” Atlas sighed, but the legionnaires were thoroughly enthralled by Chaz’s marksmanship as yet another Separatist dropped. Chaz, meanwhile, was somewhat unsettlingly quiet as they focused on their targets.

The tall, lanky legionnaire of the trio piped up. “Wait. You say Chaz is exploding peoples’ heads, but they’re clearly taking the more tactical choice and aiming for their torsos.”

Atlas waved a hand dismissively. “I’m embellishing, do forgive me. Let’s just watch and see what Chaz does,” he chuckled, quietly wanting to brace himself for the next shot rather than get caught off guard again. It didn’t take long.

CRACK-chk. Chaz had pulled the bolt back, and produced a palmful of bullets from their pocket, effortlessly loading them one by one into the rifle’s magazine. While they did this, a wail filled the air, and the group looked back to see a Separatist, bleeding from the leg, yelling for help.

“He’s getting sloppy already,” the stout legionnaire scoffed. “That one isn’t dead!”

Chaz, who’d been otherwise quiet this whole time, turned their head slightly and glared at the peanut gallery of charr, shutting the stout one up almost immediately. “That’s the point.” They punctuated their sentence by slamming the rifle’s bolt shut with a chk-chnk. “Be patient, stay quiet, and watch.” They resumed looking back through the scope at the wounded, writhing Separatist.

The dignified-looking legionnaire was thoroughly impressed as they leaned towards the stout, grumpy one for an aside. “To be fair, shooting out someone’s kneecap at that range is more impressive than center-mass. Must have taken a lot of math to judge that shot.”

“I wanna see some heads exploding!” the grumpy charr grumbled. “But… you’re right. I’m curious to see what they’re getting at.”

Atlas regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Chaz’s use of mathematics in their sniping is quite versatile. They can take out someone’s kneecap, or collapse a structure, or, yes indeed, explode someone’s head if they so desire.” They murmured a bit afterwards. “That said, this isn’t what Chaz had rehearsed while we were waiting for you three to show up, so I’m… quite curious too.”

“Oh, an unscripted performance!” The lanky legionnaire said cheerily. “This should be exciting.”

The Separatist’s cries echoed through the twilight sky. “Fuck, my leg! Someone help!”. It wasn’t long before one of their friends noticed, and started running towards them. “Hold on, I’ll-”

CRACK-chk-chnk! The group visibly flinched, except for the stout one, whose perpetual frown spread into the widest grin, as he cheered perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “HAH! Now THAT’s what I wanted to see!”

Chaz didn’t bother to respond, they were too focused. Time passed, another Separatist ran towards the injured one, and started picking them up.

CRACK-chk-chnk. Another center-mass shot. The injured Separatist yelped, as their would-be saviour keeled over, dropping them to the ground.

“Oh, I see what’s going on now,” the dignified legionnaire said. “Using an injured enemy as bait to lure out other targets. Cruel, but effective. Where’d you learn that tactic?”

CRACK-chk-chnk. Another would-be saviour down. Still no response from Chaz. The injured Separatist, tried to push themselves up onto their feet and limp to safety, still calling for help.

CRACK-chk-chnk. Their other leg gave out and they were left immobile. “Oh gods, someone help me!”.

“Excuse me, marksman? Chaz?” the dignified charr spoke up. “I was asking, where did you-”

CRACK-chk-chnk. Center-mass again. More screaming for help. Chaz mumbled something, but it was too indistinguishable to be heard. Maurus and Clovis started to look a bit uncomfortable, while Atlas just looked confused.

“…Come again?”

CRACK-chk. More bullets from their pocket, in one at a time. More  “…Say it.”

“What?” The legionnaires looked between each other, confused, as screams for help echoed throughout the night sky.

“Say. It.”

As Chaz reloaded the rifle and the bolt slammed shut, the cries filling the air changed. A group of about five Separatists had heard the commotion and, as the legionnaires and the Grins looked back, they saw that the injured Separatist was gesturing wildly, seemingly trying to shoo them away, and yelling out “No, stay away! It’s a trap!”

Looking back at Chaz, the group of charr noticed an unsettling change of mood. The haggard-looking runt was smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning, mouth pulled taut, into some grim expression of sadistic glee. They took a deep breath, changed their stance slightly, and exhaled.

“Finally,” the word came out hushed as they emptied their lungs. Their breath, misty from the cold night air, was caught in the moonlight. To the charr accompanying Chaz, they saw cold, calculated, unforgiving spite in that cloud of breath. To the Separatists below, frightened and disoriented, they saw the chilling shroud of Grenth himself descending upon them. The air went still, and Chaz’s hands became a blur.

CRACK-chka-CRACK-chka-CRACK-chka-CRACK-chka-CRACK-chk-chnk! All five Separatists were downed within seconds of one another, and another pocketful of bullets were brought out and loaded one-by-one into the rifle.

Atlas’ eyes grew wide. “Burn me, that was incredible! Maurus, Clovis, did you see that?”

Silence. Atlas turned around and saw only Clovis, looking dumbfounded.

“…Maurus? Clovis, where’s Maurus?”

She gestured downhill. Atlas got the sinking feeling the night was about to go that way, too.

Maurus had clearly had enough of the racket the Separatist was making. It was grating on his ears, and the gunfire wasn’t doing him any favours either. He had a headache and he wanted to go get some sleep. Chaz had demonstrated their skills plenty tonight, they were sure to get a place in one of the warbands in the morning.

He was going to put the wounded human out of their misery. It hadn’t occurred to him to give warning beforehand, he’d just stormed off down the hill to get the job done.

Looking back out onto the field, Atlas, Clovis and the legionnaires could see the wounded Separatist, still barely clinging onto consciousness. That was when they saw Maurus. Not Chaz, though.

Chaz just saw red. A large, bright red shape moving towards several smaller, motionless, dark red shapes, along with one other shape that was still moving, though its colour was fading and darkening. Whatever that bright red thing was, it was moving, and they had everything lined up to make it drop.

Distance.

“Oi, Chaz. Friendly on the field.”

Muzzle velocity. Aim up a bit to compensate for bullet drop.

“CHAZ. FRIENDLY. HOLD YOUR FIRE.”

Wind speed - the wind picked up and was blowing to the west, so aim a little bit to the right to compensate.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE CHAZ, STOP, THAT’S MAUR-!”

CRACK.

Maurus held the Separatist by the head - he’d just snapped the bastard’s neck when he heard the shot ring out. He looked uphill, dropped the limp, lifeless man to the ground and put his hands over his mouth. “…Oh shit.” He hurried back up to the mill.

There was an awkward, heavy silence in the air - Atlas had intervened just in time, tackling Chaz and knocking the butt of the rifle so that its barrel swung upwards. The sudden jolt and the loud report of the rifle startled Chaz enough that they yelped, coming back to their senses and trying to get up, realising they’d been pinned by a very furious Atlas.

“…Ow, Atlas! Get offa me! What’d I… “ They squirmed in place, glancing around before they noticed Maurus was missing. “…Oh no.” They stopped struggling, and started shivering. “Oh, fuck, what did I do?”

“You damn near shot Maurus is what you did!” Atlas snarled, grabbing Chaz by the lapels and getting in their face. “You… what the hell, man? You didn’t know what you were doing?”

“I-I-I told you, I go all auto-pilot when I’m nervous!” Chaz stammered, trying to avoid making eye contact.

“Nervous?” Atlas barked in disbelief, “That is what you do when you’re nervous?!”

Maurus hurried into the camp. “I’m okay! I’m okay. That was my bad, I just… that screaming was too much, I went down to shut the bastard up and I should’ve said something…” He saw a surprised group of Charr, surrounding Atlas, who had Chaz on the ground. “…What’d I miss?”

Atlas snarled, but finally let go of Chaz, sighing in frustration. He got up and looked to Maurus. “This kid nearly shot you, I had to… intervene. Are you okay?”

Maurus nodded. “Considering I haven’t been shot, I’m fine, thanks. Are they okay?”

Atlas looked back. Chaz had curled up, shivering, hyperventilating and sniffling. They refused to make eye contact with anything but the ground.

“I… don’t know. I kind of lost my temper. I should probably… just give them some space for a minute.”

“Well, that was nearly a friendly fire incident,” the short grumpy Legionnaire huffed. “If it were up to me your friend here would be in the stockades by now for reckless endangerment.”

The tall lanky one shook his head. “I’m not sure. They look lost and seem to be having trouble processing what happened.”

The dignified one tilted his head. “I think you’re on the right track, there.” He glanced over to Atlas. “You there, Atlas. You mentioned earlier that your gladium friend here was the sole survivor of an ambush, yes?”

“A Separatist ambush, yeah.”

“And you said they had recovered physically?”

“They’re fit to fight, yeah. I figured they could be done with some revenge against the bastards who killed their warband.”

The legionnaire mulled this over in his head. “Understandable, but perhaps a misguided train of thought. May I have a moment to speak with your friend?”

Atlas sighed. “I dunno, ‘s up to them.” He looked over, and called out. “Hey, Chaz!” Chaz flinched and looked at Atlas, still visibly shaking. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Legionnaire here wants to come talk with you, is that cool?” Chaz hesitated, but eventually nodded. Atlas gave the dignified legionnaire a look. “…Go easy on them, yeah? They’ve been through a lot and I… might have made it worse.”

The legionnaire nodded slowly, and approached Chaz, kneeling down beside them and gently placing a hand on their shoulder. “How are you holding up, soldier?”

“…I blew it, didn’t I?” Chaz couldn’t bear to make eye contact.

The legionnaire sighed. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about, but since you asked, let’s not mince words - Your marksmanship is excellent, and as your enthusiastic friend here has noted, your ability to judge shot placement is amazing. I’m also impressed by the way you used that one Separatist as bait.” A brief pause, and a thought crossed his mind. “Actually, before I continue, I never did get an answer to my question - Where did you learn that particular tactic?”

The small Charr hesitated. “…It was how my warband was… ambushed.”

“Ah, I heard about that, you were the sole survivor, correct?”

“I was the bait.”

“…I see.” The legionnaire cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. As I said, I’m gonna give this to you straight - I cannot in good confidence allow you to join my warband.”

“So basically, I blew it.” Chaz grumped.

“Please, don’t take it too harshly. I was talking with the other legionnaires and it sounds like you’re not quite yourself right now.”

Chaz tilted their head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Well… have you experienced any ringing in your ears?”

“Um… A little, yeah. It’s worse when I’m firing the rifle, but I figured everyone got that.”

“Mm. What about an uncontrollable urge to thump anyone who gets in your way?”

“Kind of? I don’t do too good in crowds, I get a bit panicky and I need to find a quiet spot otherwise I might lash out.” They look at their clawless hands. “Not like I’m about to bop someone to death with these things, though,” They chuckled weakly, before yawning.

“I see. Have you been getting enough sleep, soldier? You look like you’ve been up for days.”

“Can’t. The few times I do try and sleep I get awful, awful nightmares. It’s like… I close my eyes and suddenly I’m back in Sniper’s Woods. I keep seeing that man. That helmet. Those eyes…”

“Hey, hey, stay with me, soldier.” The legionnaire gave Chaz’s shoulder a firm squeeze and a shake. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to put you through that again, just… it sounds as if you’re suffering from a particularly severe case of battle fatigue. It’s a nasty affliction, and a few of my best soldiers have been taken by it in my years as a legionnaire. Normally the treatment we prescribe is to just let it out, smash some things, crack some skulls, but… evidently that hasn’t helped, in your case.”

“Understatement of the century,” Chaz scoffed.

“Indeed. I still don’t fully understand the condition, but it sounds like yours needs a more nuanced approach, or at least some good friends to keep an eye on you until you’re better. While I understand and appreciate your friends’ desire to get you back into a warband, I think tonight’s demonstration was a mistake. A well-intentioned mistake, but still a mistake.”

“So… that’s it, then? This whole night was a waste of your time?”

“Oh no, far from it! Watching you work with that rifle was incredible, and you dispatched a fair number of those Separatist bastards, in my eyes that’s time well spent, you’ve made the mill a safer place, and I believe you’ve more than earned your right to some rest. Thank you for your time, I hope your search for a new warband goes well, and I hope you can find peace, soldier.”

And with a quick salute, the three of them were off, conversing with one another about the night, with the stout one still marvelling at how that one Separatist’s head just straight up exploded.

Atlas shuffled awkwardly over to Chaz, nudged along by Maurus and Clovis. “So, uh… demonstration didn’t go well, huh?”

Chaz sighed, and curled up a bit, knees huddled to their chest, looking up at the night sky. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

Atlas sighed, and sat down to the left of the smaller charr, causing them to jump a bit. “Listen. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. Just… when you said you went auto-pilot I didn’t realise it’d get… that bad. You were  really far gone, like you were in another world entirely. I seriously thought you were gonna shoot Maurus.”

Chaz shuddered. “That’s the worst part about it. I was so caught up in what I was doing, the only thing I remember was you tackling me and yelling at me, and I looked around and Maurus wasn’t there…  I seriously thought I had shot him. I don’t know, maybe I did, maybe this is some crazy dream where I didn’t shoot him.”

Maurus coughed awkwardly, sitting down to the right of Chaz, and putting a hand on their shoulder carefully, so as not to startle them. “Um, I’m still here. Look, the thing that matters is you didn’t shoot me. Please, don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Clovis joined the group, sitting down next to Maurus. “Yeah, you can’t spend all your days getting caught up in what could have happened, especially when it didn’t happen.” A brief pause. “If you had shot him though--”

“Clovis.” Maurus shot her a look.

“What? Was just gonna say, you’d have survived. Lookit you, you’re huge.”

Maurus nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose I’ve had worse.”

A long, heavy silence filled the air as the four charr looked out at the fields, the sky starting to turn a fiery red with another dawn on the horizon.

Atlas was the first to break the silence. “Listen, I know it’s not much, and it’s probably not the right time, but… “ He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a raggedy old rifle, notched and marked and held together with bandages and sheer malice. “I think this was the rifle that Separatist bastard shot you with… you want it?”

Chaz didn’t have any energy left to get up in Atlas’ face about it, so they just looked over at him weakly. “…Is this your idea of some funny joke? That’s fucked up.”

“Woah, hey, sorry… that is kind of a dick move though. I guess I hadn’t thought it through.” Atlas set the gun aside, putting his hands up and sighing. “I dunno what the hell was going through my mind when I took it, even. Just… that man with the knife.”

Chaz looked Atlas in the eye. “You saw the guy who was torturing me?”

Atlas nodded. “We all did. Fucking coward booked it soon as he saw us come charging in, When we saw the state he’d left you in, ugh… Made my blood boil.“

“How’d you figure the rifle was his?”

“I dunno for sure, maybe it’s his, maybe it belonged to one of the cronies we already killed. Anyway, thing is, when I saw the rifle, and the bloodstains and the gunshot wound in your leg, I just thought, y’know, this sick fuck took so much from you, maybe you’d wanna take something back from him?”

“I… appreciate the thought. It’s not gonna bring back my warband, but… thank you.”

Atlas nodded, sadly. “I’m sorry. I was really hoping we could get you into one of those bands tonight. I figured you’d be really happy serving in a warband where your skills could be put to excellent use.”

Chaz sighed. “Honestly, I’d be happy in any warband. Ever since I registered as a gladium I’ve felt so… vulnerable, small, insignificant.” Chaz holds out a nubby, clawless hand and stares at it. “Like someone bigger than me could just take me and nobody would notice.”

Clovis perked her ears up, and looked over at Chaz. She stood back up, and started walking around the mill. “You know… you make a good point. Maybe someone could take you. Maybe someone already has.”

Chaz looked around. “…Should I be afraid?” That question was answered for them - they yelped in surprise as Clovis knelt down and clapped her hands over their shoulders. They squirmed in place. “Ack, lemme go!”

“C’mon. Think back to that day, when we found you. What did you say, on day that we first met?”

Chaz’s squirming slowed down, and they looked up at Clovis. “Uhhh… I figured I was hallucinating that I’d been rescued by a bunch of looters dressed in orange and purple?”

“You are correct! Mostly. Technically we didn’t rescue you from that camp, we looted you! That means we get to keep you!” She chuckled. “And a looted charr is more valuable than a rickety old rifle, so you owe me a drink, Atlas.” A sly smirk from Clovis, much to Atlas’ feigned annoyance.

Chaz squirmed some more, laughing as they realised what was going on. “Yeah, but remember what Atlas said?”

Atlas saw where this was going, and smiled. “Yeah, I said we’re not kidnapping Chaz, we need to ask them and see how they feel.”

Clovis nodded. “But at the time, all Chaz could say was that they were in severe pain and discomfort and required immediate medical attention.” She looked down at the small Charr. “So… how do you feel now?”

“I am still in some mild pain and discomfort as my wounds haven’t properly healed yet, please let me go.”

“…Oh, right. Sorry.” Clovis carefully took her hands off of Chaz’s shoulders, looking crestfallen. “With that mesmer magic hiding your scars I… kinda forgot.”

Chaz laughed. “It’s alright. Seriously though, I’d be happy to join your warband, if you’d have me.”

Clovis’ face brightened up again, and she cheered. “Woo, we looted a new ‘bandmate!”

Maurus looked a lot cheerier too. “So you’re gonna be staying with us? Yes!”

Atlas crossed his arms, nodding. “Alright. It’s not official yet, but we’ll take you to see the Grin Legionnaire as soon as we can, and fill him in on the situation.”

Chaz looked a bit nervous. “Will I need to provide proof of my combat skills or anything?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. After what happened today, it sounds like what you really need is an extended vacation. Thankfully the Grins are pretty laid back, we just get rough instructions and tackle it however we see fit. Like that day we saved you from the Separatists?”

“Yeah?”

“Our assignment was, and I shit you not, ‘Disrupt Separatist activity in and around Ebonhawke’. That was it.”

Clovis chimed in, “I decided the best way to do that was loot a camp, and that’s when we looted you!”

Chaz was rather taken aback by what he’d just heard. “Wow. So… I don’t have much in the way of obligations?”

Atlas shook his head. “None at all, really. You contribute in the way you feel most comfortable. Like I said, I’ll fill the legionnaire in on the state we found you in and the whole battle fatigue thing. He’ll make sure you aren’t forced into a fighting role or anything that involves Separatists. And if he doesn’t, I will.”

Chaz heaved a sigh of relief. “That’s… that’s incredible. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least we can do. D’you need anything else?”

“Well… I could use a drink.” Chaz coughed. “I’m pretty dry right now.”

“Sure thing,” Atlas nodded. “Let’s get back to the citadel and get you a drink. On me, as an apology for tonight. And one for Clovis, since she looted you. And one for Maurus, since he almost got shot.”

The group shared a laugh as they marched back to the citadel. Chaz looked out towards the glowing horizon, and smiled a little.

They were tired, they were sore, they still had so much to be anxious about, but for the first time in a little while, they were looking forward to a new day.