Day 4 - The Gunsmith's Gamble

[Corporal Light]

"S-Stop firing! STOP FUCKING FIRING, DAMMIT!"

Jensen shrieked those words at the top of his lungs as he brought his arms in front of one of the archers, forcing their crossbows down to the ground. The last thing he wanted was a little girl getting shot on his orders.

The bandit sighed, bringing his gloved left hand up to his sweaty forehead. He watched as the green gunsmith charged into the forest like a rampaging buffalo, with no regard for his or others safety. He had stopped firing, presumably due to lack of ammunition, and was instead focusing his efforts on running away. The girl was shouting at him to wait up and tell her what was going on. The fact she was so naive would've probably made Jensen chortle a bit if there weren't more pressing matters to attend to. Specifically numbers.

"Alright..." Jensen said, taking in a few, nervous deep breathes, "I-I want everyone who can stand to form a l-line in front of me, n-now."

The tactician leaned forward slightly, continuing to recover his stamina from the battle that had just occurred. He placed his hands on his knees, staring at the grass. If it wasn't for the fact that they all had torches, he probably wouldn't have even seen the ground.

Leaning back upwards, he glances towards the newly formed line in front of him. Before he could even bring his left hand up to count, his heart sank into his chest. There stood only two, both holding longbows and quivers on their backs. They were illuminated by a torch held by the leftmost longbowman. They remained silent, but their expressions told the truth. His eyes twitched in disbelief. This couldn't possibly be. The group was composed of almost ten. Eight, to be specific.

"W-W-Where are th-the others?" Jensen stuttered, looking all over the place in utter shock. He walked to his left, turning towards the forest, secretly hoping that some of them were just hiding to play a sick joke on him like they sometimes did.

"Sir..... he killed them. Killed all of them. It's just us left." One of the archers replied, his tone disheartened and solemn.

"No... no, we can't be. We just can't be th-" The leader said, stopping as soon as his foot connected with what appeared to be a large rock. He peered down, his hands shaking as they grasped the rock. Bringing it up to his face, he felt bile forming in his throat as he stared at the head of one of their own. His name was Tyral, if one could believe it. His hair was dark brown, and he had a lean, almost rat-like face. With a rat nose and rat ears and small, green rat eyes. If anyone could be identified as a thief, it would be him.

But he was also one of the friendliest, most honorable men Jensen had ever met. No matter who you were, and no matter who you worked for, he treated you fairly and kindly. He once saw him talking to a captured prime in a jail cell, sharing stories over family and home. Alongside himself, Tyral also helped convince the others about the safety of Agern's "issue," and he had never seen a man who was more willing to laugh at ones joke, no matter how crass. He had never seen a man more optimistic, no matter how hopeless the situation was. He saw the good in everyone, and sought to bring it out.

Now here he was. His neck torn apart into pieces of gore, crimson goo oozing from the bottom of his head. Jensen slowly dropped the head back down onto the ground, hearing it roll back down the hill and next to his decapitated corpse. Silently, the second-in-command trudged forward, seeing the bodies of the fallen next to each other.

The others stood back, knowing what was going on. The scene flickered in front of the second-in-command. Brutal death squads that infiltrated villages and bases. Before each assault by the enemy, they would attack, destroying critical areas and anyone who got in their way. He was once on the receiving end of these squads. They had slaughtered every soldier they came across, and he only survived by hiding within a salt barrel filled with meat so that they couldn't detect his scent. When he opened the lid, he saw blood. Blood as clear as the morning sky. He smelled smoke. He tasted death. And he hid away. Like a coward.

It's alright, Jensen. My good, most loyal friend. I know it hurts, but remember, you have a new life now. Everything that happened is now in the past. You can make a difference again. You don't need to be afraid.

I don't know.... I just don't know... this place... all of it... it's...

Here, I promise you. It won't ever happen here.

You won't lose us.

Ever.