Shortly before dusk, Cullen gets back in motion, gathering his people to explain what to expect from Dorian and sharing the information with Aveline to disseminate to her guards. He ignores any uneasy looks beyond making it clear that accepting Dorian's help isn't a suggestion, but an order.
The plate clad party members don black tabards and outer gloves that cover any glint of mail that could catch in starlight or moonlight. They're ready and eager. Those remaining behind at camp seem to know their part and when to join up. They split up and form a winding column toward the top of the ridge above the camp. Once there, two groups split off with two runners designated between to keep communication open.
Cullen and his group take half the mages and Dorian with them, Aveline and hers the other half. The night sounds of the coast still around them as they pass, only to restart a few dozen yards behind them. The white sand paths show enough in the darkness to let them see the way. Cullen keeps his eyes open for any tell-tale glows of campfires.
They're less than a half hour out before they come across their first. The forward scout takes the smaller ridge and returns about five minutes later. "Fewer of them than us," he whispers, "but they've got caged mabari."
Cullen looks to the mages. "Two priorities for you. Don't let anyone get to those cages and try to kill the beasts while they're trapped. We don't want to be pack rushed." Two archers peel off from the group to climb the ridge and position themselves. "The rest of us, we hit them hard, we hit them fast. No fire grenades. Remember. We don't want to call attention to ourselves." He draws his sword and signals. "Let's go."
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The plate clad party members don black tabards and outer gloves that cover any glint of mail that could catch in starlight or moonlight. They're ready and eager. Those remaining behind at camp seem to know their part and when to join up. They split up and form a winding column toward the top of the ridge above the camp. Once there, two groups split off with two runners designated between to keep communication open.
Cullen and his group take half the mages and Dorian with them, Aveline and hers the other half. The night sounds of the coast still around them as they pass, only to restart a few dozen yards behind them. The white sand paths show enough in the darkness to let them see the way. Cullen keeps his eyes open for any tell-tale glows of campfires.
They're less than a half hour out before they come across their first. The forward scout takes the smaller ridge and returns about five minutes later. "Fewer of them than us," he whispers, "but they've got caged mabari."
Cullen looks to the mages. "Two priorities for you. Don't let anyone get to those cages and try to kill the beasts while they're trapped. We don't want to be pack rushed." Two archers peel off from the group to climb the ridge and position themselves. "The rest of us, we hit them hard, we hit them fast. No fire grenades. Remember. We don't want to call attention to ourselves." He draws his sword and signals. "Let's go."