[Bennet is still, perhaps more still than he has ever been since Stratos has meet him, staring ahead intently. His eyes sweep over the desolate landscape, searching for any trace of movement.]
[And then he hears them. Voices. Distant, so distant as to barely be heard, but they are enough for him to yank Stratos roughly behind the nearest cover, a boulder of sufficient size to hide them both, and for his other hand to go to his sword. The voices become more distinct as their owners grow closer, talking amongst themselves, all male. He holds his breath and waits.]
[Then, finally, they round from behind a ledge and into view. Men. Three of them, each armed, each seemingly without a care in the world. He doesn't recognize their vestments at all, but they don't seem to be uniforms, nor are the men moving with anything approaching the discipline he would expect of a proper fighting unit.]
Those men. Are they the rebels that you spoke of? Bandits? Something else? [His voice is low, almost a whisper, but fiercely insistent.]
no subject
[And then he hears them. Voices. Distant, so distant as to barely be heard, but they are enough for him to yank Stratos roughly behind the nearest cover, a boulder of sufficient size to hide them both, and for his other hand to go to his sword. The voices become more distinct as their owners grow closer, talking amongst themselves, all male. He holds his breath and waits.]
[Then, finally, they round from behind a ledge and into view. Men. Three of them, each armed, each seemingly without a care in the world. He doesn't recognize their vestments at all, but they don't seem to be uniforms, nor are the men moving with anything approaching the discipline he would expect of a proper fighting unit.]
Those men. Are they the rebels that you spoke of? Bandits? Something else? [His voice is low, almost a whisper, but fiercely insistent.]